


Epitaph

by SchrodingersFett



Series: Graveyard Squad [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Clone Trooper, Clones, Gen, Grand Army of the Republic, Jedi, SOLDIER - Freeform, Science Fiction, Star Wars - Freeform, The Clone Wars - Freeform, The Force, War, theelin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-07
Updated: 2017-11-28
Packaged: 2018-10-16 02:07:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 27,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10561600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SchrodingersFett/pseuds/SchrodingersFett
Summary: As the Clone Wars rage on, so does the life of CT - 1809. Joining Sergeant Xander and Graveyard Squad of the 614th, the clone medic trooper tries to adapt to life with his new squad and the many battles they face in a war-torn galaxy.





	1. Chapter 1

He was tired, that was all he could feel at that moment as he stood in the shuttle returning to the attack cruiser. Eyes burning from a lack of sleep and general stress, he stood stationary next to others who wore the same armor as him. The Low Altitude Assault Transport which carried him shook as it exited the aquatic planet Kamino’s atmosphere, but the clone took no notice. The inside of the spacecraft was lit by the dim red light that filled the cabin. From the inside of the LAAT, the clone trooper could only imagine the horror he was leaving behind on the planet he and his brothers called home. He chose not to. Even though the aftermath of it still weighed heavily on his shoulders, he had to focus on the next mission, the next battle, the next defeat or victory.

That was the nature of war.

The soldier looked at his brothers standing next to him, some he knew from other squads and platoons he had interacted with while others wore fresh, new armor that reflected the light brightly. From the corner of his eye he could see his sergeant who stood upright with a hint of pride in his posture. Triangles were painted on his helmet, shoulder pads, and chest armor with the same deep maroon that the 614th battalion chose to differentiate themselves from the others.

The craft soon stopped shaking as it was now away from the planet’s atmosphere. A mammoth, Republic attack cruiser hovered over the planet. The LAAT began to approach the impressive ship which waited for the incoming shuttle.

“Docking in bay seven.” The pilot said over the intercom.

The clone took a deep breath and exhaled slowly as he prepared to leave the transport. The shuttle came to a halt as it landed in the attack cruiser. Some shuffling could be heard inside the cabin as the soldiers inside it anticipated exiting the crowded space. The side doors opened revealing the hanger of the cruiser. Clone troopers working in the hangar immediately began to refuel the LAAT and check its exterior. Voices coming from the intercom outside of the shuttle could be heard echoing off the walls of the vast spacecraft.

“Follow me.” The sergeant ordered.

“Yes, sir.” The clone labeled CT – 1809 replied following his new sergeant.  
The two exited the LAAT and walked through the hanger, passing other soldiers and droids working on the cruiser. CT – 1809 could tell by how the hangar officers were moving that they were preparing for the mission at hand. He was well aware of the battle that was already happening on a planet in the mid rim where his Jedi general was trying to run off the Separatist forces that were using the planet’s natural resources for oil.

They made their way down a long grey hallway. Along the way, they passed several clone troopers who worked on the ship, their grey uniforms allowing their shared faces to be shown unlike their armored brothers.  
“Sergeant Xander.” A few of them addressed the clone sergeant who nodded back at them.  
Although the two had never formally met, CT – 1809 had seen Xander in action before. He had always held himself up well and was quick as a whip when it came to making decisions and attack strategies. Even though he had adopted the protocol ‘by the book’ mentality to his leadership, he was known in the battalion for providing tactical input to his superiors when asked for and not. Some of the lieutenants did not take kindly to his interjections, but his knowledge had proven useful and had even saved trooper lives in the past.  
Suddenly, the attack cruiser jerked indicating that the vessel had made the jump into hyperspace. CT – 1809 imagined the blue and white stars and planets that were streaking past at that moment as the ship departed Kamino.  
After a few minutes of walking, the two clone troopers arrived at their destination. They stood in front of a grey door that matched the surrounding walls. The sergeant opened the door and walked in. Inside was the sleeping quarters for the soldiers and shipmates. CT – 1809 looked at the various bunks and sections that aligned the many walls of the quarters. Few of the bunks were occupied as most of the crewmen were at their stations operating the ship. Voices could be heard a few rows down the sections of bunks.  
“Sounds like they are still up.” Xander said looking over his shoulder at CT – 1809.  
The experienced soldier led his new squad member to the source of the voices. Belly-laughing could be heard coming from one of the voices. The same voice that CT – 1809 shared with his brothers. However, this laugh was unique in its own as the owner had his own personality through the joyful display.  
As they turned the corner down a section of bunks, CT – 1809 could see a few clone troopers down the way. He could see the owner of the laugh who had long black hair and a soul patch on his chin. The happy soldier seemed to be talking to another trooper with a dark red mohawk who was chuckling warmly as if he had just told a joke. Two other clone troopers were present as they reclined in their bunks, one looking intently at a datapad. CT – 1809 noted how there were only five of them including Xander which was small for squad standards.  
“Men.” Xander addressed his squad.  
The four clones in front of him got off their bunks and stood at attention.  
“At ease.” He instructed.  
They eased their postures, but remained standing. The squad’s sergeant removed his helmet and CT – 1809 did the same. Xander’s skin was tan and had three light xeshs tattooed to each side of his jaw. The clone’s hair was black and cut into the standard military cut all the clones once bore. He moved his dark, brown eyes to CT – 1809 who shared the same features as his superior, except for his head which was shaved, leaving short black hair. A defining scar broke the medic’s hairline and traveled to the top of his forehead. The older scar remained untouched by his sprouting hair.  
“We have a new member of our squad.” The sergeant began. “This is Ricochet. He is our new medic, so let’s try not to keep him busy.”  
The sergeant looked specifically at the clone with the dyed mohawk and the one with messy hair and a five o’clock shadow. The clone with a mohawk raised his arms and shrugged his shoulders jokingly. The clone with the longer hair looked at Ricochet with a hint of a smirk on his face.  
“It’s nice to meet you.” The clone medic said.  
The clone with the longer hair stepped forward. “Nice to meet you, Rico.”  
“Ricochet.” The clone medic corrected. “My name is Ricochet.”  
In response, the clone with the longer hair lifted his eye brows and let his lower lip protrude.  
“Looks like you finally get a bunkmate, Bi.” The clone with the longer hair said nudging the younger clone in the ribs.  
The younger clone smiled a bit. His hairstyle was almost the standard cut save for an undercut which had a shaved line that circled his head. Tattooed in the line on his right side was ‘CT – 11 – 0101’ and on the left was a combination of ones and zeros that stretched around his head.  
“We don’t have time for introductions. We are due for the mid rim at 0400 hours. Get some rest while you can.”  
“Yes, sir!” the men all said except for the clone with the messy hair and five o’clock shadow.  
The younger clone turned to Ricochet who had removed his upper torso’s armor exposing the garment underneath that bore the symbol of the Republic. “Would you like the top or bottom bunk?”  
Ricochet turned his head towards the younger clone. “I’m fine with either.”  
“Alright.” The younger clone smiled, climbing up onto the top bunk.  
As soon as he reached the top, he looked down at Ricochet.  
“My name is Binary, it’s nice to have another person on our squad.”  
Ricochet nodded at Binary who rolled back into his bunk.  
The medic compared Binary’s personality to the eight year-old clones on Kamino that anticipated the day they would graduate and become soldiers. The drive to serve the Republic and the sense of purpose that came with it were nearly programed into all of the brothers’ heads. Ricochet had remembered feeling the same way when he awaited to complete his training. In a sense, it was the same mentality that had not be corrupted by the war.  
Soon, his new squad mates were all asleep. Except for him. Ricochet stared at the wall in his bunk as his head laid against his pillow. He tried to close his eyes, but every time he did the halls of Kamino flooded his mind and the memories he had recently made there haunted him. The red emergency lights, the screams of his brothers, the terrified eyes of his little brothers as the droids raised their guns to them. Ricochet couldn’t help but toss and turn. Quietly, he turned to face toward the bunks next to him. He saw Xander sitting on his bed still awake. His sergeant was holding his blaster upwards, gently leaning his forehead against it. His eyes and brows were furrowed as if he were in deep concentration. Ricochet looked at him curiously before deciding to attempt to fall asleep.  
Ricochet rolled back to the other side of his bunk. The medic knew he would eventually fall asleep that was how he had gotten sleep the last two days. Relaxing his mind, he let his fatigued body succumb to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Only the dead have seen the end of war.” - Plato
> 
> With Ricochet now with Graveyard Squad, the clone trooper learns about the heartbreaking status of his brothers who are struggling in the fight against the Separatist army in the Mid Rim. With this factor dancing in the heads of Graveyard Squad, they are sent as reinforcements to the planet below to try to break enemy lines.

The off-yellow sky of one of the many mid-rim planets was decorated with the long, lilac colored clouds in its atmosphere. Above the planet, the attack cruiser carrying sergeant Xander and his squad prepared to deploy its troops to the planet’s surface. Inside the hangar, three LAATs waited to be boarded. Now fully in gear, Xander’s smaller squad walked toward the transports for briefing. Ricochet walked next to Binary who had his sniper rifle secured on his back along with a datapad attached at his side. The younger clone had deep maroon designs on his armor and helmet that symmetrically resembled check marks.

Xander lead his men to a gathering of clone troopers who were ready for the mission. The clone with the longer hair walked next to him.

“What’s the status down there, sir?” the soldier with the longer hair asked in a mid-stretch with his arms.

“I talked to the other squads and apparently the situation down there isn’t improving.”

“Guess the intel they gave us went sour.” The clone with the longer hair said from behind his helmet.

“All I know is that we are being sent as reinforcements.” Xander added stopping at a gathering of battle, ready clone troopers.

“Any day I get to shoot one of those kriffing Seppies in the face is a good day.” The soldier with longer hair said with a smirk.

A clone navigational officer was standing in the middle of the gathering space in front of the transports with a map reader device next to him. The clone’s face was exposed in comparison to his surrounding brothers.

“Gather around.” He ordered waiting for the remaining squad.

Fixing the gray cap on his head which covered his black hair, he placed his arms behind his back before addressing the troopers.

“For some of you, this will be your first battle. For others, this is nothing new.” Began the navigational officer. “General Rothki, Commander Titan and the rest of the 614th are being cornered by enemy troops and retreating is not an option. The intel given to us by the Republic greatly underestimated the total number of enemy troops. Casualties are increasing and the only chance of breaking enemy lines is to send in reinforcements. As you know, the last campaign we went on took a number on our troops and we can’t risk losing anymore. This is where you come in.”

“Sounds like a party.” The trooper with longer hair whispered to the one with the mohawk.

The officer in the gray uniform turned on the map reader revealing a blue holomap. The mountainous terrain showed where the enemy troops were engaging their troops. From the display, the soldiers could see how their troops were being pushed back towards a dead end.

“The general has informed us that the Separatists have fallen back to what he can presume is them regrouping for the next wave of attacks to finish us off.” The officer began. 

“They sent a group of scouts to report where they were regrouping only for them to be found by some clankers. We presume them to be dead.”

Ricochet felt himself tense up at the news. He looked over at his squad mate that had messy hair. The clone’s hands were tightly holding his blaster and Ricochet swore he could hear a low growl coming from the trooper.

The navigational officer continued. “Once you are grounded, you are to report to your lieutenant for further instruction. Am I clear?”

“Yes, sir!” the ensemble of clones answered.

“Good.” The officer turned his attention to Xander. “Sergeant, you and Graveyard squad have been given special instruction to report to the General. He has a special task for your men.”

“Will do, sir.” Said Xander.

“Good. You all will depart in five minutes. Board your transports and prepare for departure.”

“Yes, sir!” the group replied.

As the other squads began to disperse to their transports, Xander turned to his small squad.

“Alright men, I know this is Ricochet’s first battle with our squad, but remember your training and fight together as one. Let’s move out.” Xander commands leading Graveyard squad to their waiting ship.

Ricochet felt himself take a deep breath as he prepared himself for the battle below.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The only sound that could be heard was the humming of a lone Republic transport which made its way to its passengers’ destination. The cabin inside the dark Low Altitude Assault Transport was silent except for the humming of the engines that kept the ship airborne. Wearing identical armor with painted designs of their own choosing, Graveyard squad stood in the belly of the ship preparing in silence for the battle they were about to enter. The identical soldiers were used to the ongoing fight between the Galactic Republic and the Confederacy of Independent Systems, in fact, it was what they were created to do. Since birth, every day was preparation for the moment their boots would hit the battlefield.

A voice came from the pilot over the intercom who had the distinguished voice that all the clone trooper shared.

“Approaching drop off location in thirty seconds.”

The troopers prepared themselves as the transport descended onto the alien planet’s terrain. The carrier landed softly as the doors, separating the soldiers from the outside world, opened up. Leading the way, sergeant Xander lead his squad quickly out of the vessel into the unfamiliar territory. As he and his squad remained silent running head-on, the sound of the lieutenants and the commander barking out commands filled their ears. Only the sound of their boots hitting the ground was emitted from the smaller squad.  
Graveyard squad caught glimpses of the surrounding area where the fighting had taken place. The results were devastating. They all saw the war-torn landscape that was riddled with debris from the droids and ruined ships. Bodies of fallen clone troopers were being cleared and the injured were lead to the recently grounded LAATs.

“Edge squad, move the injured to the transports! Swish squad, get into your platoon!” barked a lieutenant to the reinforcement troops that arrived with Xander’s squad. 

As instructed, Graveyard squad approached their shouting commander who was standing next to the general. Finally reaching them, Xander halted his squad to report in to their General and commander who had their attention directed toward the platoons being re-organized around them. A blue hologram of the alien terrain hovered next to the commander. It showed the drop-offs and land formations in the area along with points of interest that were shown in red.

“Commander Titan?” Sergeant Xander said strongly.

Commander Titan turned his head towards the sound of the voice.

“Graveyard squad reporting for duty, sir!” the sergeant declared.

The commander turned completely around to face the squad. Wearing a single black pauldron on his right shoulder to distinguish his rank, the commander had two blaster pistols fastened to his side. He was equipped with a view finder on his helmet along with two deep, maroon stripes on the lower left part of his helmet. The six squad members came into his view, each standing at attention.

Commander Titan removed his helmet to reveal the face shared by the clones; high cheek bones, dark brown eyes, black hair and tan skin. The only flaw in the matching face of the clone was the two scars on his jaw’s left side that reflected the design of his helmet.

“At ease, Sergeant Xander.” Commander Titan directed the obedient clone.

Xander obeyed easing his stance and removing his helmet too. His squad followed by their sergeant’s example, removing their helmets as well. 

“Thank you for joining us, Sergeant Xander.” Said Commander Titan.

“You’re welcome, sir. Anything to support the Republic.” Xander said formally.

“Well said, Sergeant.”

A clone lieutenant stepped forward, still wearing his helmet which had the battalion’s deep maroon color on his goggles. The clone lieutenant who was called Grim was known for his harsh criticism, morbid outlook and stern demeanor.

“Hmmm,” Lieutenant Grim hummed examining the squad. “Small squad.”

“We’ll do our job, Lieutenant Grim.” Xander addressed the Lieutenant’s remark.

“I know you will.” A voice boomed from behind Grim.

A reddish-purple, theelin Jedi moved closer to the gathering of clone troopers. He was wearing long, brown robes that marked his affiliation with the Jedi order. Attached to the black belt that was wrapped around his robes waist the Jedi carried a lightsaber with a kyber crystal that produced a green blade. His wild, theelin hair was contained in a high pony tail which accentuated the six horns that were on his head.

“General Rothki.” Xander stood at attention like the rest of Graveyard Squad.

The Jedi general paused, observing the smaller squad who grew in size the last time he saw them.

“Thank you for coming on such short notice. As you are already aware, we are being cornered and we are taking too many casualties to hold out much longer. On this engagement alone we have already lost one platoon and we are struggling with penetrating enemy lines because of our depleting numbers. We found it odd how the Separatist troops suddenly left to regroup. Our last scouting party never returned and by their last transmission, we could only retrieve one word, ‘tanks’. We are not certain what kind of tanks they have brought for us, but it is crucial we know what they are planning so we can strategically plan our attack. We can only hold the next charge of enemy lines for so long. This is where your squad comes in.”

“The General and I feel that with your squad’s skills, we can break the enemy’s lines and take this battle back.” Titan added.

“Yes, sir.” Xander said nodding his head.

“Good. What is your plan, Sergeant?” Rothki asked the clone trooper.

Xander thought for a second, looking at the blue hologram projection in front of him before proposing his strategy. He could see a ridge above where the droid army was projected to be located.

“From the look of it, you will need a majority of my squad to help holding our line. I will send two of my men to check on the status of the tanks. When they report back, we will make the appropriate accommodations. The rest of my squad will be in front, leading the attack.” Xander formulated.

“Two from your squad to scout on enemy terrain? Sounds like a suicide mission to me, Sergeant.” Lieutenant Grim jeered.

“Has Sergeant’s Xander’s squad ever let us down before, Lieutenant?” General Rothki asked the clone lieutenant.

 

“Uh…no, sir! They have not.” Grim answered.

“And they won’t fail us now.” The Jedi said calmly.

The Jedi turned his attention to the sixth member of the squad who bore the medic symbol on his left shoulder.

“Sergeant, we are losing more men then we can rally. Our last platoon carried a majority of our medics and we are now down to a handful. We need someone to assist the whole platoon.” General Rothki began.

Ricochet slightly lifted his scarred and shaved head, acknowledging the Jedi’s words. Sergeant Xander looked at his brother who anticipated the commands of his superiors. The clone trooper with a scar on the left side of his head turned his attention to his sergeant. Xander could see the determination in his eyes. He nodded at the clone medic, giving him the okay to pursue the Jedi’s request.

“Our medic can do it.” Said Xander.

“Very well, Sergeant. May the Force be with you. You are dismissed!” Ordered General Rothki.

“Yes, sir!” Graveyard squad said in unison with the exception of the trooper with a ghost painted on his helmet.

Xander lead his men towards the newly formed platoon that was making final preparations for the impending attack. The medic trooper was the last to follow the squad as he took a deep breath before joining the smaller squad.

Lieutenant Grim looked at the medic trooper curiously. “CT - 1809, huh? Wasn’t he on Kamino during the attack?”

“Yes, yes he was.” Commander Titan replied.

Lieutenant Grim shook his head at the ground in a mixture of anger and sorrow.

“So that means Sergeant Hart-”

“Yes.” Interrupted Commander Titan. 

Lieutenant Grim picked up his head and looked back at the departing squad.

“So he’s like the rest of the squad then.” Grim added.

“Xander knows what he’s doing. I had faith in him then and I have faith in him now.” General Rothki added.

The trio watched the squad join their platoon, anticipating the battle ahead.


	3. Chapter 3

“You ready to go, shiny?” the clone trooper with longer hair asked the medic.

While the soldier waited for a response, he tied up the top half of his hair into a bun. A favored ritual before putting on his helmet for battle.

Ricochet looked at him with annoyance. “I am not a shiny. I have seen my fair share of battle.” The medic replied with seriousness in his voice.

“Well, you’re new to me uh…” 

“Ricochet.” The medic trooper reminded him, putting on his helmet.

Amused, he rubbed the small patch of facial hair under his lip and smirked. “Ricochet…got it!”

The long-haired clone patted Ricochet’s back which irritated the medic trooper more.

“Well, Ricochet…try not to get shot.” He chuckled pushing the trooper on the shoulder causing him to lose balance.

“Ah leave him alone!” said the squad member with a red-tinted mohawk.

“What?” the longer-haired clone raised his hands in a shrug. “I’m just messing around with him! I didn’t mean it, Slip!”

“Knock it off, Jonesy!” Xander said sternly.

“Sorry, sir!” Jonesy apologized.

The mohawked clone trooper walked next to Ricochet, putting on his helmet which had a stripe down the middle that rounded off around the chin area of the helmet.

“Ignore him. He just likes the sound of his own voice.” Slip said to Ricochet. “Jonesy is a bit of an acquired taste.”

“I’m right here you moron!” Jonesy said putting on his helmet too.

Xander rolled his eyes at his men’s banter. After a few more steps, Xander silently raised his fist towards the sky signaling his men to stop. They all obeyed the command and stopped in their tracks. Before addressing his squad, Xander took a deep breath and turned to face them.

“You all know what must be done. Don’t disappoint me. Binary and Slip, you two will scout ahead of enemy lines and report back on the status of the tanks and enemy. Report what you see and wait for further instruction.” Xander ordered.

“Yes, sir!” the squad mates said in unison.

“Jonesy, Ghost,” Xander barked getting the attention of the other two soldiers. “You two come with me to the front lines. We need to take out those clankers and hold the line.”

“Yes, sir!” Jonesy said.

The silent clone trooper with a red ghost painted on his helmet nodded.

“Ricochet, you will do as we discussed with the general. Assist the injured during the battle and direct the other medics on where to go. We can’t afford to lose any more men.”

“Yes, sir!” Ricochet said accepting his orders.

“Get into position, men!” Xander commanded.

The squad split up and headed their separate ways. Binary and Slip ran past the platoon and into no man’s land, making their way to the coarse shrubs on the far, left side of the battlefield. Xander looked at Jonesy and Ghost, gesturing to the front lines. The three troopers began their walk towards their commander and general with the rest of the front lines preparing themselves for the fight ahead. Ricochet made his way to the middle of the platoon, looking upon the identical white and maroon armor his brothers bore. He lined himself up with others from his battalion anticipating the fight ahead of him.

Ricochet took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for the task at hand. Looking at his surroundings, he noticed the layers of rock in the exposed cliffs and the smooth dirt beneath his feet.

'Not climbing today,' He thought to himself. 'So no broken bones due to climbing accidents. Soft ground with smooth dirt makes for a light impact; less of a chance of getting knocked out from impact to ground. No holes in the ground means no twisted ankles and easy maneuverability.'

The observant medic continued to look around at the landscape until he finally looked at his armed brothers. He recognized a few of the troopers near him from previous missions; he even recalled treating some of their injuries. Ricochet had seen just about every injury a person could receive as a soldier. From blaster wounds to complete amputations, it was always busy work for him in the war. He was constantly treating his brothers and getting them away from danger as quickly as possible. What he did had always given him a sense of purpose. Even though many of his brothers had been trained for special skills like medicine, marksmen, flying, and aquatic warfare, Ricochet had always been a natural in the medical field. A natural, born gift that he had always had. With a galaxy torn in a war between the Galactic Republic and Separatist Alliance, his gift was put into good use.

General Rothki walked in front of the platoon igniting his lightsaber which displayed a green laser which hummed at the slightest movement. The theelin turned around to face his battalion. The clone troopers anticipated their general’s orders as they all stood at attention, eyes all fixed on their general.

He gazed upon his troops. “I know our previous efforts for this mission have proven unsuccessful, but we press on for the Republic. But we must not dwell on the past and those we have lost…we must move forward as one. We learn from where we fail and we grow from it. May the Force be with you all! Onward, men!” the Jedi said gesturing his lightsaber towards the direction they were marching to.

The platoon began to march towards the enemy.

 

~*Ω*~

 

General Rothki impaled a B2 battle droid before it could fire another round at him. He quickly took his lightsaber out of the machine and force pushed it at a trio of battle droids who flailed upon impact.

“So much for the element of surprise, sir!” Commander Titan says to his general as he blasts away at the droid army.

“We adapt to what we are given, commander.” Mavro Rothki said deflecting blaster shots.

“Right, sir.” Titan replies.

Next to the commander and general, Xander and his two squadmates were returning fire at the advancing troops. The sergeant glanced over at Ghost and Jonesy who stood their ground. Jonesy was precisely hitting each of the Separatist soldiers that had the misfortune of becoming his target. Even though Xander could not see his brother’s face, he was sure there was a smile painted on it as he took down enemy troops. In contrast to Jonesy’s personality on and off the battlefield, Ghost was silently firing his Republic, issued, DC – 15 blaster.

Having known the two longest members of the squad, Xander knew their personalities along with their skill sets. Jonesy had the most accurate shot on the squad with the exception of Binary who was a skilled marksman. Although his shot was accurate, his personality and mouth sometimes became too much for both Xander and the rest of the commanding officers. Jonesy was not afraid to speak his mind, even if what he had to say went against protocol or risked him being chewed out by Xander. Even then, punishments or being yelled at never seemed to bother him. It was as though it was almost as if it was a game to him, but Xander knew that there was more to him than just trivial mannerisms.

Although he usually liked to jeer his brothers for entertainment, Jonesy cared greatly for his brothers’ well-being. In battle, Xander could see his brother’s concern for his battalion. With the constant chaos that ensues around the clones, Jonesy did his best to raise their spirits by using the voice he loves to hear, his own.

“Lovely day for a battle huh, Xan?” Jonesy exclaims shooting down two droids with precision.

Xander gave the clone a look having to control his agitation in Jonesy for not addressing his rank. Even though a majority of the time Jonesy was at times a thorn in his side, the clone sergeant could not imagine the squad without him.


	4. Chapter 4

A battle droid screamed in agony as a blaster made a hole in its metal chest. It fell over only to be replaced by another one of its kind. Clone trooper Ghost shot the replacement droid in the same spot without even batting an eye. Turning around to another droid that was trying to sneak up behind him, Ghost swiftly kicked the thin droid’s legs from beneath it causing it to shriek and fall to the ground. He then placed his foot on the disoriented droid and blasted it in the face. Xander was standing next to Ghost who had taken out two B2 battle droids in a blink of an eye. The sergeant was also shooting at the enemy while taking orders from Commander Titan who was firing his two DC – 17 blaster pistols.

Commander Titan inched his way closer to the sergeant, not taking his eyes away from his targets.

“Have your scouts made contact yet?” He yelled over the sound of blaster fire.

“I’ll get their status, sir!” Xander answered ceasing fire to contact Slip and Binary.

Xander hit a few of his buttons on his right, wrist gauntlet, alerting his scouts.

 

~*Ω*~

 

About half a mile away from the battle, the two Graveyard Squad members had placed themselves high up on one of the terrain’s steep hills and out of sight from the enemy. Tree roots invaded the ground around them and the shade of the vegetation kept them cool from the Mid Rim planet’s heat. A soft breeze danced around their white armor as it blew the benign plants’ leaves which offered them cover from the enemy troops at the bottom of the hill.

“Looks like the clankers advanced forward before we arrived.” Slip said to Binary.

“Not all.” Binary uttered from the ground as he looked through is sniper’s viewfinder.

The younger clone observed the Separatist droids below that were inspecting two large tanks while also waiting around like cattle.

“I got two tanks, about a dozen B1 clankers and six commandos.” Binary pointed to the two tanks that remained stationary.

Slip crouched down next to his brother. “Commandos, huh? Looks like we know what happened to the other scouting party.”

Binary exhaled sadly.

The mohawked clone took off his backpack and began to dig inside the it to retrieve his binoculars. The soldier pivoted his view to the droids below and began looking through his Republic issued device to get a better view of the Separatist Army. His little brother was laying on the ground, focusing his sniper rifle at the closest tank in his view. 

Slip’s wrist gauntlet pinged while a single button glowed notifying him of an incoming transmission. The soldier secured his binoculars and turned his attention to the message from his superior.

Slip pressed the button and raised his gauntlet to his lips. “Go for Slip.” 

“Do you two have visual of the enemy?” his sergeant’s voice said through his gauntlet.

“Yes, sir. We are next to the tanks location.” Slip answered.

“What is the status of the tanks?”

Binary chimed into the conversation still looking through his rifle’s viewfinder.

“The cannons are stationary, but it looks like they are preparing to make their way down to the battle. We also have six commando droids and a dozen B1s guarding them. I am not in range to retrieve any form of communication signals from the tanks. They probably contain information about any other droid troops on the planet.”

Xander saw Commander Titan inch closer to him as he took out a clanker.

“What is he suggesting?” Commander Titan asked eaves dropping into the conversation.

“Get as close as you can, Binary.” Xander instructed.

“Yes, sir!” Binary replied back.

Slip turned off his gauntlet and looked at Binary who pulled out a datapad and a small device from his utility belt. 

“Take this.” Binary said handing Slip the small, hand-held device.

“What’s the plan, Bi?” Slip asked.

“I need you to get closer to those tanks so that I can retrieve the droids’ transmissions.” Binary said turning on his datapad.

“Sounds easy enough.” Slip said looking small scanner he had been given.

“I’ll be able to see the Separatist’s transmissions from my end while yo-”

Binary turned his head to look back at Slip who had mysteriously vanished from the location. The young trooper looked from left to right on the hill trying to find his brother, but to no avail. Defeated, Binary bowed his head hitting a part of his helmet gently on his rifle in annoyance.

“God I hate it when he does that.” he muttered under his breath.

Slip had jumped down from the top of the hill, landed on his feet, and was sliding down the steep terrain he once stood on top of. He couldn’t help but smile behind his helmet as his speed increased. After a few moments, he reached the bottom and somersaulted into a nearby bush to remain hidden. He carefully moved some of the branches out of his view to get a better look at the enemy. Seeing that he was within fifty feet of them, he looked at the scanner he was given. The screen gave no signs of any signals. He quickly darted to another bush that was closer to the tanks and waited for a moment before heading to another. Slip repeated this process of flipping and running to different shrubs trying his best to stay hidden. He finally reached the final group of coarse bushes that separated him from droids and tanks.

He looked down at the scanner in his black, gloved hands and saw a stronger signal being registered onto its screen. Slip gave a smirking grin at the device and contacted Binary

“I’m in range, Binary.” Slip informed his brother.

“Good job, Slip. I am receiving the data now.” Binary said looking at his screen.

Albeit encrypted in droid, Binary had no problem decoding the transmission. After a minute, he had the whole message decoded into Aurebesh. Binary double-checked the code and deciphered text before contacting his sergeant.

“Sergeant Xander, this is Binary.” He said into his own gauntlet.

Xander was firing rapidly at the approaching droid lines which seemed to keep replenishing.

“What do you got, boys?” the sergeant requested still firing his blaster.

“The tanks are long-range and are protected by a force field that deflects energy pulses and blaster fire.” reported Binary. “There is no way to deactivate the force field off except for inside the tank, even then the tanks have too much fire power. However, the force field does not detect low forms of electrical or radio waves. The droids near the tanks aren’t even affected by it.” 

“When do you expect the tanks to arrive, Binary?” Xander asked.

A loud roar from down below caught Binary’s attention as the tanks came to life. He looked through his sniper lenses and saw the droids get into neat lines. The small mechanical platoon began to move towards the battle.

“Move forward!” One of the lieutenant B1 droids commanded the tanks and other droids.

“Ten minutes, sir.” He answered.

General Rothki cut three B2 battle droids in half before Force pushing two battle droids into a boulder. The theelin Jedi used the Force to flip back next to Commander Titan.

“What is the word on those tanks, Sergeant?” General Rothki asked deflecting blasters with his lightsaber.

Blasting a droid in the face Xander addressed his General. “Two tanks that have force fields around them that deflect electrical pulses including blaster fire, sir. However, the tanks cannot detect low forms of electrical waves.”

“That doesn’t help us much.” Commander Titan added dodging blaster fire.

“Seeing how things are going here, I don’t think we have the capability to take them down.” Rothki asked deflecting a blaster pulse into a nearby droid.

“Binary, have you and Slip figured out how to kill those things?” Xander asked.

Hearing his sergeant through his gauntlet, Slip joined into the conversation. “We can take care of it from here, sir!”

“What’s the plan?” the clone sergeant asked.

“Wait for our signal, then fall back.” Slip said into his comlink.

“What’s the signal then?”

“You’ll know when you see it, sir.”

The mohawked clone heard his sergeant sigh.

“Very well. Report back to base when this is all over.” Xander ordered.

“Yes, sir.” They both replied back.

After a few minutes, Slip flipped on to the top of the hill with ease. He immediately squatted down and took off his helmet to reveal his messy, red, helmet hair. Binary looked at his brother who was now digging through his backpack with his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth. He could tell his squad mate knew exactly what he was doing. Unfortunately that meant Slip was about to pull a Slip move. “I know that look. What did you have in mind, Slip?”  
Pulling a small bomb out of his backpack, Slip looked at Binary with a cocky look in his brown eyes. 

“Boom.”


	5. Chapter 5

A clone trooper supporting a Z-6 rotary blaster cannon tried to gun down as many battle droids as he could. His mind was clear as he focused on making every shot of his cannon count. The soldier did not see the battle droid that was approaching him from the side. The droid lifted the blaster in its metal hands and shot the focused trooper in the shoulder causing him to collapse. Groaning in pain, the trooper grabbed his smoking shoulder and rolled on his back in pain. The battle droid prepared his blaster to deliver the final blow to the injured clone when a voice called out trying to get its attention.

“Hey you! Clanker!”

The droid turned its head to a medic trooper whose armor was painted with a deep maroon stripe going down the left side of his body, matching the side his scar on his head. Ricochet was within fifteen feet of the droid when he aimed his blaster at the metal humanoid’s chest. Ricochet fired his blaster. The blast missed the droid by three feet, confusing it. The droid looked at the clone in disbelief.

“That shot wasn’t anywhere near me!” the droid said in its high pitched voice.

Frustrated, Ricochet moved closer and began to fire again protecting his injured brother. He managed to hit the droids shoulder and leg, disabling it. Ricochet stomped on the droid’s thin neck breaking it in half. The medic turned his attention to the soldier and went to his side to inspect his wound.

_Barely missed his brachial artery._ Ricochet thought gently touching the wound. _Full recovery within a few days._

The medic lifted his head at two clones that were firing at the enemy nearby.

“You two,” Ricochet yelled pointing at the two soldiers. “Cover us!”

The two complied, stepping in front of Ricochet and the nameless clone to shield them.

“Are you alright?” he asked inspecting the wound.

“I-I think so…” the clone trooper panted.

“What’s your name, soldier?” Ricochet asked quickly applying bacta ointment from his utility belt pouches.

“Bunker.” He replied.

“Bunker, we need to move you.” Ricochet said lifting him up carefully.

Swinging Bunker’s good arm around his shoulder, Ricochet quickly moved the trooper to the back of the platoon to receive proper medical attention. Handing the trooper off to another medic trooper, Ricochet turned around to face the battle. He scanned the battle field for more injured.

“We need a medic!” a clone called out from deep within the battlefield.

Making sure Bunker was safe, Ricochet ran back into ongoing battle. He ran as fast as he could attempting to kill, or in his case hit, as many of the enemy soldiers as he could. Meandering around the corpses and the troopers that were still fighting, the medic finally reached the clone who had called for him. Ricochet reached the trooper who was bent down next to a shiny who was rolling around violently shielding his face with both hands and crying out in agony. Blood covered the new soldier’s hands and armor.

“Medic!” He called out again.

“I’m here!” Ricochet said kneeling crouching down to them.

“Ricochet! Boy I’m glad to see you!” the uninjured trooper said looking at his brother.

“What happened?” he asked.

“Some clanker debris hit him in the face, he won’t calm down.” The clone said referring to the thrashing trooper.

“Easy now.” Ricochet said trying to calm the screaming soldier.

“NOOOOOO!” the clone yelled refusing to remove his hands from his face.

“Help me move him.” He commanded.

Ricochet and the other clone tried to move the young soldier’s arms, but he screamed and fought off their hands. The Graveyard squad member could see the clone’s pain and fear as he flailed about.

“Brother!” Ricochet barked getting the clone to stop moving. “We are going to carry you to safety…but we need your hands to do it.”

“N-no (cough) I can’t…It hurts too much!” the younger clone said painfully.

“I know…but we are going to make it better. Trust me.” Ricochet said gently touching his shoulder.

The panicked soldier finally calmed down, removing his blood-soaked hands from his helmet. His helmet had cracked from where the shrapnel hit his face. The helmet’s visor was smashed in and blood oozed out of the dark, gaping hole. Ricochet knew he could not properly assess the wound until he removed the helmet. Even then, he could tell that there was significant damage done to his brother’s face.

Ricochet helped him to his feet with the help of the other soldier. They moved quickly to get out of the blaster fire while trying to avoid getting hit by shrapnel and shots themselves. The injured soldier stumbled a few times as he tried to keep up with his stronger brothers.  
Reaching the area where the transports and Bunker were, Ricochet gently sat the wounded clone trooper down. As soon as Ricochet set the shiny down, many of the wounded and medic troopers around him were looking at the younger clone with deafening silence. The horrified look on their faces said it all, he would never fight again. Trying to help Ricochet, one of the medic troopers stepped forward.

“We have a medical dro-”

“I don’t need a damn droid to do my job.” Ricochet said fumbling through his medic backpack.

Ricochet pulled out some bacta bandages and gauze. He turned his attention back to the bleeding clone trooper.

“I’m going to remove your helmet. I need you to remain calm.” Said Ricochet.

“O-okay.” The wounded clone stuttered.

Ricochet carefully removed the severely damaged helmet from the soldier’s head. The young clone spasmed in pain as the helmet pulled away tiny bits of his flesh from his face. What Ricochet saw made his heart sink. He had a gash that ran diagonally from his hairline to his jaw. His left eye was a gapping, raw, bloody mess and his other eye was swollen shut from the tiny pieces of shrapnel that entered his cornea and pupil. The soldier’s nose had a deep wound that cut through the cartilage and into his cheek. To Ricochet’s horror, he knew there was nothing he could do to save this young man’s eyes. But he could still save him from bleeding out. He removed his helmet, took a deep breath and began to quickly unravel the bandages in his hand.

“What’s your name, kid?” Ricochet asked beginning to wrap the clone’s head with bandages.

“CT – 67 - 8633.” The young clone answered.

_He’s so young._ Ricochet took a deep breath realizing that this was the shiny’s first real experience in battle.

“Well, CT – 8633, we are going to patch you up and send you to the closest medical station to get you back on your feet.” Ricochet calmly said.

The young clone’s hands blindly reached up and touched the medic’s face marking it with blood. “Will I be able to see again?”

Ricochet paused before answering. He gently grabbed the clone’s wrist and looked at his half-bandaged face which still showed fear. Ricochet glanced up at the surrounding troopers who were listening into the conversation before turning his attention to his injured brother.

“No.” he answered in a monotone voice.

“Then I am useless.” The clone’s voice cracked as he learned of his fate. “I am no good to the Republic!” 

Ricochet felt a fire begin to burn inside of him. The injured soldier’s words grasped him for a second bringing along with it memories of a past life.

_He’s useless on the battlefield! Don’t waste your breath on CT – 1809, he’s a waste._ Ricochet shook his head and looked at his younger brother with compassion in his eyes.

“You are not useless.” Ricochet starts. “The general always says, ‘We work with what we are given.’ From our flaws and weakness, we find our strengths. If we stopped fighting when we were down, the Separatists would have already taken control over the galaxy. I know the fight still boils in your blood, we all feel it too, but I promise you, you are not useless.”

With his eyes and nose wrapped completely with bandage, CT – 8633 smiled a bit at the veteran medic’s words. An explosion rang through the area followed by a few familiar voices. Ricochet turned his attention to the platoon to see a clearing had been made from the tanks’ long-range fire.

An uneven chorus of voices called out. “Ricochet!”

“Stay strong, kid.” Ricochet said to CT – 8633 before running back into the battlefront.

Although the tanks were still half a mile away, they were firing at the platoon. They left a trail of destruction and beaten bodies from their powerful blasts. Ricochet continued running through the maroon, marked soldiers. He finally reached the front lines where the first blast ravaged two squads. The medic trooper arrived at the first trooper who was lying face down with his helmet off next to the crater left by the tank. Ricochet gently flipped his brother over only to see the lifeless expression of the dead trooper. Nudging the body’s chest, Ricochet called out to the fallen trooper, but there was no response. Accepting the inevitable, Ricochet closed his fallen brother’s eyes and kept moving.

_Kriff._ He thought to himself.

Hearing more caterwauling, Ricochet spun himself around to see more troopers suffering from the effects of the blast. Assessing the situation, he realized time was precious and he could not help all of them. Looking around he saw another medic trooper who was focused on shooting down the rapidly approaching droids.

“Medic!” Ricochet yelled trying to get the trooper’s attention.

Taking down his target, the medic quickly made his way to Ricochet.

“I need your help out here.” Ricochet said gesturing to the injured soldiers.

“Yes, sir!” the medic clone said running over to the nearest wounded soldier.

Ricochet ran to trooper who was trying to stand up with a blaster in his hand. He put the trooper’s arm over his shoulder seeing that his leg had damage from the tank’s blast. Ricochet began to escort the trooper to the safe spot, but he fought to stay.

“No, I have to keep fighting! For the Republic!” the trooper exclaimed firing his weapon with the arm that wasn’t around Ricochet’s shoulder.

“Come on. You’re done.” Ricochet said dragging the trooper away.

The scarred medic stopped when he felt something grab onto his ankle. Looking down he saw one of his brothers grabbing onto him. Ricochet could see the blaster mark on his lower back, he needed immediate attention. With his hands full, Ricochet glanced over his shoulder.

“You!” Ricochet turned his head to a nearby soldier.

Running to Ricochet’s side, the clone waited for orders. “Take him to the flank with the rest of the injured.” He said handing the injured trooper over to him.

The soldier complied helping the wounded trooper to safety. Ricochet and the other medic continued the trend of assisting the wounded from the tank while the battle raged on. This process of hopping from one individual to another was a task the experienced medic could do in his sleep.

Consumed in tending to the clone he was assisting, Ricochet did not see the B2 battle droid that had its target set on his head. Suddenly, the sound of a blaster rang in the medic’s ears. Lifting his head, he saw the B2 battle droid that was poised to kill him with a smoking hole in its metal chest. As the droid fell over, Ricochet turned his head around to see a familiar paint design on a trooper. Jonesy’s gun was still hot from the blast that killed the droid. The Graveyard squad member kept moving around Ricochet shooting at the droids that were approaching. His mark was precise on every shot he took, killing the droids that got in his blaster’s range.

“Don’t get too caught up playing doctor, Rics. You’re still a soldier!” Jonesy said blasting another droid without even looking. 

Ricochet growled in frustration as he turned his attention back to his patient as Jonesy moved his position again. The sound of another cannon blast could be heard as one of the tanks fired away. The impact knocked down another group of clone troopers causing another chorus of calls for the medic to help them. Ricochet turned his head to the location of the last explosion. He knew at this rate, their platoon would be annihilated like the one before them. Those tanks needed to be taken out.


	6. Chapter 6

“Have you finished recalibrating the bombs yet, adi’ka?” Slip asked the younger clone trooper.

“Almost,” Binary said fumbling with a bomb while glancing at his datapad. “I’m just double checking the systems and making sure everything stable. The frequency has to be just right for this to work.”

Slip nodded and blew a strand of his red hair out of his face, positioning it delicately. He smirked at himself.

The two clone troopers stood atop the hill that was covered in native plant life. The greenery surrounding them provided shade from the purple sky’s heat. The purple of the sky made the shade around the soldiers darker in color while adding an equally dark atmosphere around them as the impending doom of their battalion laid on their shoulders. Although both showed their concern differently, Slip always did his best keeping his fears under wraps. Most of the time he found ways to keep his spirits up no matter the circumstance.

One of the tanks fired its cannon causing the brothers to flinch at the explosion.

Slip’s smirk contorted and his black eyebrows hardened into a straight line.

“You need to double time on the double checking! I don’t know how much more the platoon can take from those tanks.” Slip turned his head to the tanks which were inching closer to their troops.

“I know, I just want to be sure.” Binary admits.

Slip’s face falls a little as he sighs and pats his younger brother on the back. “I know, Bi. I know.”

Binary continued to check his datapad’s readings when he saw that the bombs were ready. Picking up one of the two detonators, he handed it to Slip who put his helmet back on.

“The bombs are stabilized with their new alterations.” Binary placed the bombs carefully into Slip’s backpack. “Please don’t get to cocky down there. Remember   
last time?” 

Slip chuckled. “I lived didn’t I? Besides, we did block off enemy troops as planned.”

“You were in the infirmary for a week.”

“And?” Slip smirks.

The young soldier gives his brother a concerned look. “Just come back in one piece.”

“I always do!” Slip said before flipping down the drop off again.

Binary positioned himself on the ground, watching Slip through the lens finder of his sniper rifle. The red-haired, clone trooper followed a similar path down the steep drop off he had made before. His white armor was dusted with the loose soil from the ground, contrasting the deep maroon paint. Being alone on this part of the mission, Slip felt that he was able to do what he needed to do without questioning. Fueling his overly confident personality, this gave him the opportunity carry out his part of the mission on his own terms. Of course, his cockiness sometimes lead to him misjudging the distance from the bombs he implanted along with showing off which lead to him paying a visit to one of the battalion’s medics.

The mohawked trooper leaned back in his dirtied boots to slow his speed. He stopped behind a tall shrub that was being choked by a thorny vine. “I’m in position, Bi.” Slip said into the speaker on his arm gauntlet.

“I see you, Slip.” The younger clone communicated back. “Stay out of sight.”

“Aren’t I always?” Slip articulated.

Binary rolled his eyes and continued to watch Slip through his rifle’s scope.

The clone with three deep maroon lines on the left side of his chest plate leaned forward on the balls of his feet. He took a few deep breaths, waiting for the opportune time to sneak in between the droids and tanks. This was the part of battle he succeeded in the most; the reasoning being he was always more energetic and had a need to exert his energy somehow. This proved to his and the 614th battalion’s benefit in his success rate with carrying out stealth missions. Staying unseen by the enemy was never a problem for him, as long as he didn’t let his overconfidence get to his head.

Slip waited a few more seconds. The crunching from the dirt under the droids’ feet could be heard along with the occasional command being said by one of the commanding droids. He scanned the area for the spots he was going to place the bombs and the path he was going to take to execute the task. 

His eyes focused on the flank of the tank nearest to him. _Point A._ Slip moved his eyes to the middle and front of the tank along. _Point B and C._ He did the same to the other tank on the opposite side of the Separatist’s line. _D, E, and F._

It was all a well-choreographed dance to him. He saw his path and no matter the level of difficulty or probability of failure, he would always execute it flawlessly. Or at least to his definition of flawlessly. The more flexible clone trooper cleared his mind only letting the map he was creating fill it.

Slip refocused his attention to ‘Point A’. The tank was finally at his side, humming over the planet’s surface. The battle droids patrolling the area passed him, leaving him with his opening. 

_“Run, Slip.”_

He obeyed the voice and led off with his right foot, silently making his way to the side of the first tank. An intricate route he followed as he dodged oblivious droids all while sticking his tongue out of the corner of his mouth as he concentrated on his art. The fastened clip on his backpack was undone swiftly by his finger as Slip’s two hands grabbed a bomb in each. 

A smirk curled on his lips. 

Scanning his surroundings quickly, the soldier began placing a bomb securely to the underside of the behemoth tank. Using his acrobatic skills, Slip somersaulted to his next designated point and placed a bomb from his backpack onto the metal tank. He continued this until it was time to move to the next tank. Doing a backflip over the unsuspecting droids, he landed in a crouching position and rolled under the tank and holding onto the flank, waiting for his next opportunity to rig the other unsuspecting tank.

Binary watched him intently from the cliff. Following his squad mate’s movement with his view finder. He made sure to keep tabs on all of the droids that were walking with the tanks to ensure Slip’s safety and the success of the task they were given. Although excessive, he made sure to double check all the droids surrounding the tanks and his datapad for all intel in regards to Separatist forces.

Slip could hear the chatter from the droids as they marched to the battle. “With these tanks, we will plow through the Republic troops like dominos.” One of the droids said in its mechanical, high-pitched voice.

“No oil for them!” Another replied to his identical comrade.

“Pfft! We’ll see about that, Seppies.” Slip muttered under his breath.

One of the battle droids stopped and moved its elongated head around hearing Slip’s voice. Blaster in its hand, it scanned the area. Binary saw this and focused his rifle on the rogue B1 battle droid. Seeing the stationary humanoid machine, a command droid approached the stopped droid.

“Y-77, why are you stopping?” It asked in a shrill voice.

“I thought I heard something, sir.” The confused droid responded.

Slip felt himself freeze for a second when he heard the enemy speak.

“Keep moving, Slip.” Binary whispered to his brother.

The tank Slip was hiding on suddenly fired its cannon on the battle ahead. He contained the groan of pain that desperately wanted escape his lips as he continued to keep up with the tank.

“It was probably one of the tanks! Now get back in line Y-77.” The command droid ordered.

“Roger, roger!” It replied, moving back into formation.

Both Slip and Binary let out a small sigh of relief as the older of the two clung to the flank. Waiting a few more seconds before departing his current position, Slip gathered himself from his hiding spot. He suddenly took off from the first tank to the second one remaining unseen. The acrobatic clone marked a similar route as the first tank and followed the invisible path. The soldier quickly secured his enhanced bombs to the metal sides of the second tank, avoiding being spotted by the battle droids that alertly guarded their mammoth weapons. He couldn’t help but smile in pride as he implanted the final bomb. 

_Now to enjoy the show._ Slip thought to himself.

He launched himself away from the Separatist machinery and rolled into the neighboring vegetation. Smirking, the soldier called his sniper. “Bombs are attached, Bi.”

“Very good. Get back up here ASAP.” Binary instructs his older brother.

Slip made sure that he was clear before sprinting to his squad mate’s location. Binary scanned the area around them for any sign of enemy troops. 

No surprises this time.

“Woo!” Slip exclaimed scaring Binary. “Got back up here in record time!”

Binary swore under his breath. “You scared me, Slip!”

“Gotta keep you on your toes.” the mohawked clone chuckled patting his brother on the shoulder.

“Please detonate it when you are ready.” Binary composed himself.

“For that, I’m going to need your help.” Slip declared.

Binary looked at the older clone trooper like a concerned child. Slip sat down next to the confused clone and pointed to a cliff that was near the battle. The sides of the landform were exposed, leaving the layers of weakened earth exposed.

“I’m going to kill two birds with one stone.” 

“But we had orders to take care of the tanks.” Binary protests.

Slip nodded. “I did tell sergeant Xander to fall back when I unleashed our signal…and I intend to keep my promise. Besides, even if we did just take out the tanks, the clanker ground forces are still too powerful for our diminishing platoon.”  
Binary looked at the ground taking in what the soldier had just said. He closed his dark, brown eyes. The soldier opened his eyes and turned his sight towards his brother.

“What do I need to do?”

Slip looked kindly at his little brother.

“Let me know when those tanks line up at the end and I’ll blow ‘em up into the next galaxy.” The energetic clone says with a smirk.

“Okay, Slip.” Binary says adjusting his viewfinder on the tanks.


	7. Chapter 7

The familiar sound of a clone trooper yelling out in pain before hitting the ground dead met the general’s ears. General Rothki felt the soldier’s life force leave his body before becoming one with the cosmic Force. The Jedi could feel the emotions of the men who served under his command around him as the battle raged on. The fear that went through the last one who was killed, the agony of the soldiers who had been wounded, and the drive that kept them fighting.

As he kept deflecting enemy fire, Mavro cleared his mind from the fear of repeating the devastation from before; he had to focus on the present. His lightsaber became a green blur as he blocked the shots and sliced through the metal enemy; a form he perfected through his training all those years ago. Although staple to the Jedi belief, it was difficult to not dwell on the past. Let alone the future. But the fact remained, his men were dying at rates similar to the last attack.

Emotionless, a B2 super battle droid released its rapid, red fire at the small group of white armored soldiers next to the leader of the 614th battalion. They all perished before they hit the ground. Regardless of his title as a Jedi, it was still a disturbing image to behold as their mangled bodies lay motionless on the ground. It was even more troublesome that these were men the general was responsible for.

It was against the Jedi code to form attachments, but that did not mean Mavro cared less about his men. They were as important as any other lifeform in the galaxy; even though their lives were disappearing from his lines.

But reflecting on that now would cloud his judgment.

The cannon roared as another blast hit his platoon. But no screams were heard. All had been killed where the explosion left its mark.

The battalion’s time was short. He knew that. Mavro Rothki had put his trust in the limited clones he had left and took a gamble with Graveyard squad. But the Jedi general had done that in the past. The reliant squad had always succeeded in the few instances where the 614th began to fall short. The peace keeper knew the squad’s history played a part in the drive that fed them keep fighting. But even then, one could only succeed for so long; and that’s where Rothki believed in his men.

More importantly, General Rothki trusted the Force.

**Pew.**

“Ah!” the Jedi winced in pain as the bottom of his robes were singed by a blast from a nearby droid.

“Are you alright, sir?” Commander Titan asked still firing his DC – 17 blasters.

Rothki bore his teeth in pain as he gingerly touched the burns on his spotted skin. Remembering his training, the Jedi cleared his mind and focused on the Force, relieving his consciousness of some of the pain.

The theelin placed his hooved feet into the war-torn soil and fixed his stance to deflect more blasts from the Separatists. “I’m alright, Commander.”

He raised his blue eyes to the battlefield.

The Jedi’s stomach sank.

Through all the death and destruction, he saw the behemoth duo of tanks that were approaching the battle.

_Trust in the Force._ Mavro thought to himself before slashing a droid in half.

~*Ω*~

Steady was Binary’s breath as he watched the tanks near the end of the cliff. Cool air from the shade soothed his inflamed throat. His brown eyes kept their focus on his target through the rifle’s scope. The physically eighteen year old’s mouth became dry as the anticipation rose in him. Slip was at his side holding one of the detonators in his gloved hand.

Another roar came from the cannons on the tanks as they continued their destructive march to their struggling battalion. A burning sensation climbed up their stomachs and into their esophagi as they imagined the impact the blasts had on their brothers. Being in a firefight was one thing, but watching its toll from afar was another.

Slip swallowed hard as he tried to keep his mind focused.

“How much longer?”

“Twenty seconds.” Binary estimated.

The wind whipped around their armor and sang its soft song while the brothers waited in silence.

**Bam. Bam.**

Continuing their reign of terror, the cannons harmoniously fired at the dwindling troops.

Fifteen seconds.

~*Ω*~

Blood and ash covered Ricochet’s armor as he dragged another soldier to the makeshift infirmary. His calves burned from the weight of his brother and the physical toil from the battle. He shot at the battle droids that were approaching him only to nick one in the leg. The droid screeched a metallic noise while falling flat on its face.

**Boom. Boom.**

Panting from running during the battle, Ricochet whipped his head around to the fresh blast sites only to see blackened bodies and severed limbs thrown all over.

The clone medic felt his breath leave him as he smelled the burning flesh. A rage grew inside him as he suddenly growled. The death seemed to outweigh the life. But he was trained to keep fighting no matter what. Ricochet knew that he and his new squad had to do their jobs, but he barely knew any of them. Yes, they all had the same training and could adapt with all brothers, but around the battalion the clones spoke of how different Graveyard squad was from the others. The clone trooper trusted his brothers with his life, but uncertainty still lingered.

“Help me!” a terrified voice called out from somewhere in the battle.

Taking a deep breath to clear his mind, Ricochet ran to the owner of the voice.

Ten seconds.

~*Ω*~

The blaster was hot and smoking in his hands. Xander could see the tanks in his peripheral vision as he took down another B2 super battle droid.

_If the tanks are still active…then Binary and Slip…_

Xander shook his head and ducked an overhead blaster fire.

_No, they are fine._

Graveyard squad’s sergeant looked over at his men. Jonesy was leveling a small batch of battle droids that approached them. The long-haired clone was always so collected but enthusiastic in battle. It’s no wonder he and Slip got along so well with their personalities.

“We can do this, sir!” Jonesy encouraged his sergeant.

Although Jonesy could be a nuisance to Xander and the rest of the squad, he was always there to support them and keep them fighting.

A droid suddenly landed on its back in front of Xander in a screeching thud.

“No! Wait!” it screamed before receiving a blast to its face.

The sergeant looked over at Ghost who had thrown the droid. The quiet soldier picked up a DC-15 that had belonged to a fallen trooper that lay next to his feet. A clone trooper that died at the hands of the thrown droid. Ghost started to shoot the dual weapons at the next line of Separatist forces killing each target in a single blow.

Even with his men at his side, the enemy troops kept advancing forcing the battalion to backup. The rubble created by the tanks suddenly blew into Xander’s masked face, causing him to flinch and turn his attention back to the tanks.

_Keep pushing, keep pushing!_ He thought to himself as he resumed shooting.

_We fight to the end._

Five seconds.

~*Ω*~

Time seemed to come to a slow crawl as Binary counted down the seconds until the tanks reached the end of the cliff.

_Check your surroundings._ He thought to himself.

Four seconds.

Everything was clear as he refocused on the tank.

_Are you sure?_

The marksmen checked again.

Three seconds.

_Yes, I am sure._

Binary could hear Slip breathing. It wasn’t hard, loud or irregular, but calm and steady. Binary’s own breath was forced into a steady pattern as he eased himself. He could hear the gentle wind and the faint rustling of the leaves around them.

Two seconds.

_You fail, they die. No mistakes._

But he wasn’t going to fail. He made sure he never failed.

One second.

_No mistakes…_

**It stopped.**

Binary saw it in his scope for a split second, but there was no denying it. A commando droid paused and swiveled its head in Slip and Binary’s direction. The machine looked directly at Binary with its horizontal slit eyes. All the blood in the clone’s body turned to ice.

_No._

Zero.

“Fire.” Binary ordered with confidence.

Slip pressed the button on the detonator in his hand while Binary fired his rifle hitting the commando in between its eyes.


	8. Chapter 8

A powerful roar from the explosion overpowered the thundering sounds of the two armies. The alien earth began to tremble from the sheer force of the detonation site. It took the battle a few moments to realize what just happened. Still in general mode, Rothki knocked down a few droids using the Force resulting in them malfunctioning. Sensing the area he was fighting in was now clear, the theelin Jedi turned his attention to the roaring blast. Fire and smoke filled his vision as both tanks blew up like the birth of a new galaxy. It was beautiful.

Part of the cliff side began to rain onto a large portion of the Separatist forces. The soft ground began to fall as the air pockets from underneath finally gave into the stress. The sound of a few battle droids calling out for help could be heard as they either fell into the appearing holes or were smashed by the falling earth.

The clones hesitantly started to take a few steps back as they watched the hungry earth and debris devour Separatist droids.

Xander picked up his head from the droid he had blasted to the work of Binary and Slip. The sensation of relief and pride filled his chest. Keeping himself focused, he turned his head to General Rothki.

“That’s our sign, sir!” he yelled to his general.

Mavro Rothki turned his attention to his troops who were still engaged in the fight. 

“Fall back!” He commanded.

The battalion obeyed their general and began to retreat. The ground continued to shake as it continued to consume the droid army.

~*Ω*~

Through his view finder, Binary looked at the remains of the tanks and droids that had once stood before him. He checked the surrounding area for any surviving droids that managed to escape the blast. The precise clone’s eyes located one battle droid that was missing a leg, crawling away from the wreckage. Aiming his rifle at the survivor’s head, Binary checked to make sure he had a clean shot.

“Not on my watch.” Binary whispered in a low tone.

Binary pulled the trigger of his rifle, hitting the battle droid clean in head, right on target. He scanned the area a final time before deeming it clear. 

“All clear, Slip.” He said to Slip

Slip grinned ear-to-ear like a child receiving a new toy. 

“Wasn’t that a beauty?” the clone trooper with a rounded stripe on his helmet asks. “Aw man, I swear I could feel the heat from it! Did you enjoy the show too, Bi?”

Binary continued to scan the wreck. “We did succeed in taking out those tanks. So yes, you did a good job.”

“Yeah, we blew them to smithereens, but wasn’t it awesome? My finest work.” Slip says taking off his helmet to fix his hair.

Binary sighs, but smiles.

“I guess it did look pretty.”

Slip chuckled.

“Welp, ad’ika,” the clone said running his fingers through his dark, red mohawk. “You deserve some of the credit too, but first we gotta call Xander and tell him we made it.”

“Yeah.” The young sniper agreed.

Slip takes a deep breath and dials a few buttons on his wrist gauntlet.

“What’s your status, Slip?” Xander answered.

“Targets destroyed, sir.” Slip responded proudly.

“Good,” the sergeant panted as he continued to run. “Report back to the battalion immediately.”

“Yes, sir.”

As the transmission ends, the soldier puts his helmet back on and addresses Binary.

“You heard the sergeant, let’s go.” He says almost too enthusiastically.

Binary nods and straps his rifle to his back.

“Let’s just hope we don’t miss too much of the action.” Slip says with a smile as he starts to move towards his battalion.

~*Ω*~

Xander could taste the gritty dust that rose from the planet’s surface. The earthy scent entered his nostrils as his lungs worked hard to keep up with the rest of his body. Numerous white boots hit the ground as the clone ground forces kept retreating as a cloud of dirt and debris formed around them. A few lieutenants and captains could be heard ordering the battalion to keep moving.

The violent rumbling from the terrain began to decrease until silence filled the area. Mavro stopped dead in his tracks and turned back to the dust ball that was   
the battlefield.

“Sir?” Commander Titan asked joining his general.

“Stop the troops from retreating.” He ordered.

“Hold your ground!” the commander yelled at the battalion.

Xander and the remaining lieutenants and sergeants repeated the order to rest of the soldiers. As designed to, they all immediately obeyed and stopped running.

Ghost and Jonesy stopped at their sergeant’s side. Both looked into the grey abyss they were retreating from. Only shadows from a closest holes in the terrain could be seen. 

General Rothki took a few steps toward the direction of the enemy. Commander Titan raised his blaster to defend his Jedi. The green blade on the theelin’s lightsaber gently hummed through the silence as everyone waited for the air to   
clear.

“That was two-thirds of our ground forces!” a whiny, metallic voice said from within the dust.

“Forget the ground forces! Our tanks are gone!” a similar voice said.

“We are doomed!”

“Sir, what should we do?” a droid asked his sergeant.

“Hold this line.” The sergeant responded. “Those clone scum retreated like cowards. I doubt they will return.”

“Roger, roger.”

 _Droids. They don’t even know we are still here._ Xander thought to himself.

General Rothki turned his head from left to right. He saw the small ridges of the terrain. The vegetation was around medium size, but could still prove to be effective. Given the remaining droids on the battlefield, the 614th had the opportunity to finally have the upper-hand in this battle.

“Titan.” The theelin whispered to the commander.

“Yes, sir?” he responded.

“Move half of the platoon to the left ridge and the other half to the right. We are going to flank them from the sides.” Rothki strategized. 

“Yes, general.”

“Do it quietly and quickly now that we have the element of surprise.”

“Right away.” Commander Titan said quietly.

The clone commander turned to his troopers and started to give orders through hand signals. Like ghosts, the soldiers moved through the dust to the ridges.


	9. Chapter 9

**Bzzzzt. Bzzzzzt.**

Sparks sizzled from the remains of battle droids on the uneven battlefield like twinkling stars through the thinning smoke and dust. The split platoon sat silently on the high ridges behind the natural barriers of plants and land formations the planet offered. Exhaustion filled their muscles as they had a chance to rest. The remaining Separatist troops, however, began to regroup unaware of the danger that surrounded them. With Commander Titan on one side and General Mavro Rothki on the other, the 614th battalion waited patiently watching their every move.

Catching his breath, Xander looked around at clones surrounding him. All remained quiet as they caught their breath. Xander turned his attention to Lieutenant Grim and Commander Titan who were hiding behind a bush whispering to each other as they observed the wreckage.

“The general will signal us when to attack. He wants the dust to settle so we can see all the Seppies.” Commander Titan whispers to his comrade.

“Complete annihilation.” Grim says back in his deep, rough voice.

Sergeant Xander turned his head to check on his squad. Ghost and Jonesy were crouching next to him. Jonesy looked back at his sergeant in what Xander could only guess was amusement.

“D’you think Slip really had this whole chain reaction effect in his head when he planned the explosion?” The long-haired clone asked.

Having seen Slip in action before, Xander knew that the energetic soldier’s most successful strategies involving explosives were the ones that weren’t exactly well-thought out. To most, this would be concerning. But Slip always managed to get lucky by trusting his gut while also surviving his ‘work’. This situation was no different. Utilizing the natural land forms, definitely a Slip plan. But the dust and sinkholes? Probably not part of it.

“Half of the aftermath, yes.” Xander responded.

A throaty chuckled escaped Jonesy.

The sergeant looked around again for the remainder of his squad. He knew that Slip and Binary would soon return, but he hadn’t seen Ricochet since the battle. The serious medic was last seen carrying his wounded brothers while dodging blaster fire. He even took leadership among the other medics in assisting the   
wounded.

Beams of light from the sun began to penetrate through the dust making it easier to see the droids and land.

From the corner of his eye, Xander saw a medic carrying a soldier. Carefully, he laid him against a group of rocks. The medic was gentle and reassuring to his brother who was experiencing discomfort. A deep maroon stripe running down the left of his armor. It was Ricochet. Sergeant Xander couldn’t help but smile.

_Good work, kid._

A breeze swept through the terrain, removing the dust from the area. The sun painted the land in its warmth. But more importantly, it revealed the location of the remaining Separatist forces. 

Commander Titan’s wrist comm began to flash. He looked at Grim and whispered something before the two of them nodded at each other. A hand signaled everyone to get into their attack formations.

Seeing his superiors’ commands, Xander motioned for his squad to join him. Ricochet left the injured clone and quickly maneuvered himself closer to his new squad. The medic turned his head to his sergeant and nodded. Sergeant Xander nodded back. The four members of Graveyard squad waited for the next command.

A hand belonging to the commander went into the air and motioned them to move closer to the edge of the ridge.

From where he was located, Xander could see the surviving, droid troops. A few B2 super battle droids were keeping a look out in the direction where the clones originally retreated. The other battle droids were squawking at each other and attempting to rescue any survivors out of the craters in the ground. From the looks of it, their efforts produced nothing.

The clones outnumbered the droids. They had the element of surprise. Victory was being waved in front of their identical faces. No more lives had to be lost.  
A fist rose into the air. The commander’s armored hand did not move as he awaited the order from General Rothki. From the other side of the battlefield, the theelin Jedi’s lightsaber could now be seen glowing.

The subtle sound of hands tightening their grasp on their grips.

“Steady.” Commander Titan instructed.

Eyes locked on their targets.

Titan’s gauntlet received a transmission. Mavro Rothki’s voice filled the silence.

“Now.”

The commander’s fist turned into a flat hand gesturing forward. The command to fire.

Built up tension was now released as the clones rained ammunition upon the unsuspecting droids. Cries of confusion and terror came from the metallic army as the blasters ripped their bodies apart. After a few seconds of chaos, the Separatists realized what was happening. One of the commanding officer’s chirped for them to raise their weapons and fire back, only for its head to be blown off its shoulders.

“Move forward!” Titan commanded.

Lieutenant Grim enforced the order.

“You heard him! Move, move, move!”

Tidy lines of clone soldiers stepped forward as they continued their assault. An air of confidence now filled them. Confidence in a victory; a victory for the Republic.


	10. Chapter 10

“Help!” A droid called out as it tried to crawl away, its hands grasping the loose soil. 

Sparks flew from the joint where its leg had been ripped off. The anatomy of the leg showed broken wires where veins should be and metal coils where tendons would be in human anatomy.

Suddenly, a clone trooper with a red ghost painted on his helmet approached it. He stepped on its back making the battle droid screech. In the soldier’s right hand was his blaster which was aimed at the panicked droid’s head, in the left hand was the droid’s leg which had been ripped off by the same trooper.

“No, no, no!” the droid begged.

_Pew._

The droid went silent. Its head now sparking from the blast.

From the corner of the silent clone’s eye, he could see a droid sneaking up on him. A blast came from the droid. Ghost deflected it with the leg of the fallen droid and smacked the blaster out of the battle droid’s hand with the same leg in two swift movements.

“Wait! I surrender!” The droid said raising its hands to the yellow-colored sky.

Ghost swung the appendage again, knocking the droid to the ground. He took the leg and impaled the droid through its torso. Its screams slowly died as it succumbed to its fatal wound.

Jonesy, having witnessed the whole thing walked up to Ghost.

“A bit of an overkill, don’t you think?” he asked Ghost.

Ghost remained silent as he looked at his two final kills. Two nearby shinies looked at Ghost in a combination of shock and amazement.

The once active and roaring battle had succumbed to a state of quiet yet joyous chatter of clone troopers as the final droid laid to waste in the loose soil. Squads regrouping, lieutenants giving orders to set perimeters, the wounded now being able to receive proper treatment; scenarios that once seemed like a dream to the fleeting battalion. 

“Overkill or not, he got the job done.” Slip says joining the two.

Jonesy chuckled and tapped wrist gauntlets with his brother.

“Speaking of getting the job done...” Jonesy says.

Slip smirks and chuckles.

“My masterpiece.”

“Sure was, brother.” Agreed Jonesy.

Slip lifts his head and looks around at the remnants of the battle. Only the Republic soldiers were left standing. He could see a couple squads combing through the mangled bodies of droids searching for survivors. The droids that managed to survive were met with a fatal shot to the head.

“Whew! Looks like the battalion had some fun.” Slip says, resting his DC – 15 on his shoulder. “Only regret is I couldn’t join the fun.”

“It’s always a good day when we give those Seppies a run for their money.” Jonesy says scanning the landscape.

He saw Ricochet standing by a few stretchers that were hovering. They all were occupied by a soldier. The medic was checking out the face of one of the clones; his head was almost completely wrapped in bandages. One of Ricochet’s hands was holding the shiny’s. A few words were exchanged before the scarred clone turned his attention to another one of his brothers.

“Think he’ll fit in?” Slip asks.

Jonesy continues looking at Ricochet work. His face falls.

“He’s like the rest of us, he will do just fine.”

Slip nods.

Noticing his mohawked squad mate was missing the youngest of the bunch, Jonesy moved his head side-to-side looking for him.

“Where’s the baby?” Jonesy asked.

“He’s following up with Xander and the general.” Slip responds nodding his head behind him. “You do realize that one day Bi is going to sock you in the face for calling him that,   
right?”

Jonesy smirked. “It’ll be good practice for him. The boy needs to roughen up a little.”

It was true. The trooper with longer hair knew Binary was skilled in combat, a marksman with top marks, and strategist who would fight tooth and nail for the Republic. The fear was his personality outside of a warzone would lead to people walking all over him. When he wasn’t hitting droids or enemies between the eyes with his rifle, Binary was seen with his nose buried in his datapad. Few times had he joined his brothers for a drink or even socialized with people outside of the military or Jedi Order. It didn’t help that the young clone had a kind heart and didn’t like to get involved with arguments. Maybe it was his youth. It was seldom to see a trooper of his age to join the Grand Army of the Republic because he was not of battle-ready age. However, his skills as a warrior proved his capability.

The undeniable sound of a clone trooper’s boots approaching the three men. The group immediately identified him by his markings on his armor that it was one of Commander Titan’s best men. He stopped when he was in front of them.

“Sergeant Xander and the commander would like to see you.” He says.

“Yes, sir.” Jonesy turns to the soldier.

“Follow me.” The clone says before beginning to walk towards his superiors.

Ghost, Jonesy, and Slip follow from behind.

They passed the tangled and slain droids and clone troopers that had once fought valiantly for their respected armies. The latter of the two being truer to the statement. A group of nearby soldiers began to remove the helmets of the fallen in search for any survivors. The wide, open eyes of the deceased clones of Jango Fett were vacant as some began to become a milky white in color. Various stages of rigor mortis took to the bodies as their loose jaws hanged open in a faux display of agony. It didn’t shock Graveyard squad. They had seen the horrific sight before in the aftermath of previous engagements. The fact that it was their own, shared face in a death state did not phase them. Instead, the feeling of sorrow and anger boiled in their blood.

Engines of LAATs could now be heard as the group approached the area they had arrived on the planet. The Republic transports came into view as some of the wounded were being loaded into the craft as Sergeant Xander, Binary, and Commander Titan watched.

The soldier leading Graveyard Squad came to a halt. Instinctively, the group stood at attention.

“Sir!” The clone announces.

“Very good, Hatch. You are dismissed.” Commander Titan nodded.

Hatch walked away leaving Graveyard Squad alone. Commander Titan looked at the group for a brief moment before addressing them.

“First and foremost, I would like to congratulate you for your hard work in securing a victory for the Republic. If it weren’t for the tenacity, leadership, and strategies that you displayed today we would not be standing here talking.

“Moving forward on this mission, the general and I are going to meet with the leaders of this planet in order to make plans with the rebuilding process and establishing Republic relations. For the time being, the injured are going to be escorted to the battlecruisers first for treatment. Ricochet has been instructed to stay here to assist with the loading. This brings me to your task. The remaining squads are to set a perimeter and patrol until we return from the meeting. We don’t want any unexpected surprises.” Titan’s voice becomes deeper and ominous at the final statement.

Ghost’s hand becomes a tight fist, threatening to tear through his glove’s fabric. From the corner of his eye, Xander could see this. Xander understood the quiet clone’s displeasure. The sergeant discretely waved a subtle sign at Ghost who relaxed his hand.

Returning his attention to his commander, Xander replies. “Understood, commander.” 

“Good. Grim will be waiting for your group to return. I’ll see you all when this is over.”

“Yes, sir!” The group says in unison, except for Ghost who nods.

Walking back to through warn-torn landscape, Xander could still see that Ghost was tense. Although the clone was hard to read a majority of the time as he usually was deadpan, a few things visibly set Ghost off. To Xander’s recollection, the main trigger was anyone or anything that threatened his brothers. The sergeant didn’t blame him. That would make any clone’s blood boil. Bound by blood and loyalty, the identical army fought together in hopes for a better tomorrow for the galaxy; even if it meant dying to protect those they cared about most. Just like the decaying corpses of their brothers they were passing. They had all been taught as younglings that their only purpose was to serve, fight, and die for the Republic. Disposable, in other words. The bodies around Graveyard’s feet served their purpose; now it was time for the rest of the battalion to do theirs.


	11. Chapter 11

Ricochet pushed the stretcher carrying a soldier who had been knocked out onto one of the LAATs. His helmet had been removed to apply a bacta-bandage to his forehead where the impact of the tanks had caused shrapnel to fly through the air, injuring the unconscious clone. A medical officer dressed in his white uniform began to help the medic secure him for the ride. In sync, the two checked their brother to make sure his vitals were stable and his injuries were being properly managed. This was the last of the wounded and Ricochet could not have been more relieved.

“You saved so many today, Ricochet.” The officer notes.

The scarred clone lifted his head. He recognized the medical officer from his day in training. Although he had the generic clone look to him and did not have any visible scars or tattoos, Ricochet could tell his brother apart from the others. He remembered the clone was fourteenth in standings when they received their final assessments. They used to call him something during training, but Ricochet couldn’t remember for the life of him. 

_What was it?_ Ricochet thought to himself, hitting a few button on the stretcher’s side. _Was it Ox? Olli? No. Orbit?_

“Just doing my duty.”

“Heh, so dedicated and focused as always. No wonder you were number one in the ranks.” The white-clad clone smiles.

Not fully paying attention, the clone officer accidentally bumps into the emergency button on the back wall of the transport. The inside of the LAAT starts to pulse red as a siren goes off inside of the craft. Ricochet flinches at the sound and looks around at the other injured clones inside. A chorus of groans come from them and the ones who are able to move lift their heads in a dazed confusion. Panic appears on the officer’s face as he turns around to disable the screaming transport. From outside of the LAAT, Ricochet could see some clones on patrol stop in their tracks and look at him in puzzlement. Thankfully, his helmet hides the sour face he is making as he watches scene unfold.

 _Oh for kriff’s sake._ Ricochet furrows his brow.

After a few more seconds the medical officer hits the final button, silencing the siren and lights.

_Oops. Yep, that’s it. His name is Oops._

The officer rubs the back of his head in embarrassment.

“I…I um- *ahem* My apologies.” He says straightening himself up.

Ricochet shakes his head and checks on the wounded in the craft to make sure everyone was ready for departure.

“Everyone is set. It was nice seeing you, Oops.”

Oops nods and smiles, still embarrassed.

Ricochet turns his body and heads for the exit when Oops speaks to him.

“General Shaak Ti would be so proud of you.” 

It made him stop for a second. The serious clone’s heart skipped a beat and a series of emotions flew through his person before disappearing. Memories. Memories of a past. A past that twisted his insides as he tried to remember. It hurt, but he wanted to remember that time. A time before…

Ricochet shook his head slightly before stepping off the transport in his march to   
find his squad.

~*Ω*~

“So…any takers for 79’s tonight?” Slip asks his squad.

The group was patrolling the area as they waited for General Rothki to return. A few other squads surrounded the area, also waiting for the general and his party to return. The area Graveyard squad was stationed was the rockier terrain. To Slip and Jonesy’s delight, this provided the best seating. 

“You go there so often they should rename it Slip’s.” Jonesy remarks.

Slip smirks. “That’s got a nice ring to it, but seriously let’s party tonight!”

“If we get back in time.” Xander says. “If it’s late I want you all in the barracks tonight. We’ve all had a long day and need rest.”

Knowing his face was concealed by his helmet, Slip pouted.

“Yes, sir.” He said convincingly. 

Binary sat down on a nearby rock and began to inspect his rifle. Knowing it wasn’t the time or place to clean it, he examined the exterior and checked the remaining charges on it. A habit he practiced on a daily basis. Ghost appeared to be doing the same thing with his blaster, but no one could really be certain. For all anyone knew, he could have been calculating the total kills he had today. No one bothered to ask because they were usually met with silence as response.

Xander catches a glimpse of the younger clone inspecting his weapon. Binary was adjusting, he had come a long way since joining Graveyard squad almost two months ago. The Kaminoans promised that clones were far more adaptable than the average person. Binary far exceeded these expectations.

Jonesy yawned as he looked around the area and abruptly stopped upon seeing something. 

“Well look who it is.”

The rest of the squad turn their heads to see Ricochet jogging over to them. The white of his armor had become discolored from the dust and the blood of the battle. Medic pack secured on his back, he looked as though he could have easily dealt with another wave of casualties.

Finally making it to the group, Ricochet stands at attention. 

“The injured have been safely evacuated, Sergeant Xander, sir!” 

Jonesy raises an eyebrow.

_Oh, he’s one of **those** medics._

“At ease, Ricochet.” Xander calmly articulates. “There is no need to be that formal around me.”

The medic relaxes his stance, but still carries the strength in his voice.

“Understood, sir.”

Ricochet remained standing, unsure of what to do. It was the second time he had seen his new squad in such a relaxed state. They all seemed so…different to him. Yes, his brothers all had their own personalities, but the way they all acted and talked to each other was unlike the other squads he had seen. Squads typically had their own micro-culture about them which made them distinct from others. Graveyard squad, however, lacked the similar structure of the other squads. Ricochet knew why. Painfully why.

“You’ve been working hard, come sit.” Slip gestures to the low rock next to him.  
Ricochet nods and removes his medic pack before sitting down next to Slip. The mohawked clone pats the medic trooper’s knee amicably.

“So, how many did you think you saved?” Slip asks, removing his helmet.

He shakes his hair and runs a hand through his mohawk before putting his helmet back on.

“Don’t know. I don’t count.” Ricochet admits.

It was partially true. Ricochet never counted how many he saved; it was the amount he lost that he kept track of. It was thirty-seven this time. Thirty-seven of his brothers that had too grave of damage that he couldn’t do anything for except comfort them as they passed on. He should have been used to it. Ricochet usually saw death every day being a medic. Holding their hand or giving them some painkiller to help, their eyes slowly glassing over as death took them, so distant…

_That screeching. The red that filled the halls._

_‘You’re going to be okay, sir. I can-I can…’_

_‘Ricochet…it’s not your-‘_

Ricochet’s stomach knotted.

“Are you alright there?” Slip asks.

The medic swallowed the lump in his throat before speaking. “Yes, just a little tired.”

Xander immediately saw his discomfort.

“Enough with the small talk,” the sergeant cuts in. “let him rest.”

Slip quietly sighs in understanding and returns to a previous conversation with Jonesy.

The group waited for a couple of hours until the deep and rough orders from Lieutenant Grim filled their ears.

“The commander and general have returned. Prepare to return to the transports.” He orders. 

Graveyard squad begins to stand up, collecting their gear.

“The squads closest the shuttles will depart first. Keep the perimeter tight until it is your turn to leave. Now move it!” Grim growls.

“Tighten it up, men.” Sergeant Xander instructs his group.

Blasters in arm, the squad forms their line as they await their turn to leave the planet. Xander looks to the sky which now contained virtually no clouds. He is able to see a few of the LAATs taking off into the atmosphere of the mid-rim planet. They were almost out of the woods. Soon, they too would join the battalion on the battlecruiser and make their way back to their barracks at Coruscant. Their adopted home. There they would stay until another engagement ripped them back into another conflict. A lifestyle they were destined to live out until the clones’ last breath.

~*Ω*~

“…I’m not even joking. He managed to down ten shots of Gho Glass without puking afterwards.” A clone sergeant reminisces. “Of course we had to carry him out of the bar because he thought he had four legs.”

Sergeant Xander smiles, slightly morphing the tattoos on the sides of his face. “At least it wasn’t Engine Fire. Remember last time you drank that, Kenai?” Xander asks.

“Ugh. Can’t even smell it without feeling like my insides are combusting.” Kenai groans.

A vast majority of the squads had already been evacuated with the exception of Graveyard and Kenai’s squad. Lieutenant Grim was by the LAATs, speaking with Commander Titan and General Rothki having made their final preparations to leave the planet.

“What was that, like five months ago?” Kenai inquires.

“Yeah. Yeah it was.” Xander’s smile slowly fades into weak display of a grimace. 

The clone sergeant looks around. He spots his squad mates next to the LAATs mingling with Kenai’s men some hundred yards away. Slip appeared to be catching up with one of his brothers. Binary and Ghost stood next to Slip, listening to the two swap stories. Jonesy was relieving himself by a group of trees. Although he couldn’t hear him, Sergeant Xander was sure Jonesy was whistling to himself. Xander continues to move his brown eyes across the landscape. He identifies Ricochet sitting by himself; checking the inventory of his medic pack.

Sergeant Kenai looks at Xander through his visor. “Haven’t seen you at any bar in a while. What is it, couldn’t take the liquor or the women?”

“War progressed, got busy, I had to adjust my priorities.”

“All after that promotion.” Kenai recalls. “You were some hot stuff back then, corporal or not you had some fire in ya. I remember Grim even cracking a smile   
after overhearing one of your pep talks.”

Xander takes a deep breath. He remembers his corporal days all too well. Kenai was right; he was a different person back then. 

“One thing has stayed the same,” Kenai rests his blaster on his shoulder. “You lead your men to victory almost every time and ya do a helluva job at it.”

It was almost true. Oh how Sergeant Xander wanted it all to be true.

“Let’s pack it up boys, we are going home!” Commander Titan yells.

Sergeant Kenai hits a button on his wrist gauntlet which he had completely   
painted the deep maroon his battalion bore.

“Rec and Quiz, do you come in?” Kenai says into the device.

“Loud and clear, sir.” One of the clones responds.

“Return to the group, we are leaving.”

“Yes, sir!”

Kenai starts to walk forward.

“Well, Xander. I hope to see you again on the battlefield.”

The sergeant smiles.

“Live to fight another day.” He bumps his wrist against his brothers.

A few minutes had passed as both sergeants and a majority of their squads entered one of the two LAATs. Lieutenant Grim, Commander Titan and General Rothki were also waiting in the other LAAT as the other soldiers continued to file in. 

Impatient, Grim leans out of the transport.

“What the Hell are those two doing?” He asks Kenai.

“I guess they patrolled farther than anticipated.” Kenai responds.

The rough lieutenant muttered under his breath.

“Have patience, lieutenant. They’ll be here.” Rothki reassures his lieutenant.

A few more minutes pass. Titan hops out of the LAAT and walks over to the other aircraft. He looks in at the two squads and peers at the sergeants.

“Kenai, Xander.”

The pair of sergeant brothers move closer to their commanding officer.

“Sir?” Kenai asks.

“One of you take trooper and go scout for them quickly.”

“I’ll do it, sir.” Xander offers.

“Good. Thank you.” The commander says before walking back to his transport.

Knowing exactly who he was taking, the tattooed clone gazed at Ghost.

“Come along, Ghost.” He calmly orders.

The silent trooper nods and follows his superior off of the LAAT. They start to walk to the last location the pair of soldiers were last seen. Avoiding the droid parts that riddled the ground, Ghost and Xander scanned the terrain. They had already walked about one hundred meters when Xander heard his wrist alert him he that he has a message.

His commander’s voice comes through the apparatus.

“What is your status, sergeant?” Titan requests.

Xander hits the speaker module on his wrist to keep the feed live.

“Nothing yet, sir. We will continue another hundre-“

A scream echoed throughout the landscape. There was a pause before a clone’s voice filled the silent void.

“What the Hell was that?” Commander Titan demands.

Heads quickly turned to seek the scream’s owner. Xander vigilantly looks around. Ghost does the same, lifting his blaster as he continues to search. 

“No visual yet.” Xander informs his superiors. “It was close. Ghost and I ar-“

He saw him from the corner of his eye. Like a white and dark maroon blur, Ghost had taken off sprinting towards the source of the scream. Xander turned his attention to the same spot Ghost was heading for. His stomach drops. 

Commando droids.

One of the droids was missing an arm, which did not seem like a problem to the skilled robot, and the others looked like they had just crawled out from an explosion. But that didn’t hold them back from surrounding the missing clone troopers. A struggling clone was being grabbed by the neck while the other tried his best to defend himself. Horrid choking noises came from the choking clone as the scene flashed by. Ghost didn’t stand a chance. Not with that amount of commandos.

The sergeant’s body’s reaction was to reach out as to grab him, but he was too far from his reach.

“GHOST! NO!” Xander shouts.


	12. Chapter 12

It happened so fast, but yet time seemed to crawl.

Sergeant Xander had only taken two breaths before realizing everything that was happening. He watched in horror as Ghost raced towards the commando droids. The clone was too far away to catch up to his brother and stop him, but he couldn’t just leave him to die. He would never leave him to die. In fact, that was what Ghost was trying to do. Not leave his brothers to die.

Xander knew that when the silent clone made a decision, there was no stopping him. Ghost could be stubborn like that at times, but the intent was honorable.

“Ghost what? What’s happening, sergeant?”

Xander manages to speak. “Commandos.” 

General Rothki picks up his head and looks at Grim and Titan with a grave face.  
The clones in the other transport could hear everything. Binary and Slip raise their heads at the word. The younger clone’s eyes widen in a revelation. No, it couldn’t be. That one commando before the explosion. It looked right at him before…

“No.” Binary whispers in disbelief.

Mavro Rothki hops off the transport. Turning to face the transports, he ignites his lightsaber. The pilots standing next to the transports look at their general.

“Should we take you there, sir?” One of them asks.

It would take too long to start those engines. By the time they were in flight, it might be too late.

“No time. Stay here. Everybody move out! We’re getting our men.”

Kenai and Xander’s squads make a hasty exit off of the LAATS.

“Everybody move! Let’s go!” Commander Titan barks while leading the men to the coordinates.

Ricochet braces himself for the potential loss of life.

~*Ω*~

Feet pounding on the ground, Ghost ran as fast as he could disregarding his sergeant’s commands. Being more advanced than standard battle droids, one of the commandos saw Ghost and started to charge for him. This did not falter the clone trooper. 

“Shit.” Xander swore under his breath as he ran with all the strength he had left. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

The commando droid leaps in the air, vibroblade in both of its hands. It flipps once before attacking Ghost in one swoop. Ghost dodges the blow and blasted the deadly weapon from the droid’s hands. In retaliation, the droid kicks the blaster out of Ghost’s hands and round-house kicks him in the head. The clone trooper stumbles and falls to the ground. Appearing unfazed, Ghost quickly rocks on his back and springs back on his feet, coming at the commando with his fists. Ghost swings a punch. The droid flawlessly reads this and swiftly grabs one of Ghost’s fists, but is uppercut with the other, disorienting the droid.

“No, NO! AAACHK-“

Ghost shifts his eyes to the captive clones behind the droid he is fighting.

Once struggling for air, the clone being choked now had a blade sticking out of his chest, impaling him through the back. Frantically, the trooper’s arms squirm about like worms being pierced by a fisherman’s hook. Emotionless, the one-armed commando droid twists its blade from behind the clone, worsening the wound. Blood fills the clone’s mouth as his internal organs are being burned, penetrated and shredded by the weapon. A guttural sound escapes the mouth of the soldier as he chokes on his own blood. Slowly, the man’s arms become limp as they fall to his sides. Seeing the lack of life in the clone, the commando droid pulls away its weapon causing blood and steam to pour out of the hole in the soldier’s chest. As if discarding trash, the droid holding the clone releases him. The body falls to the ground in a slump.

_No._

“Man down.” Xander articulates to his comm.

~*Ω*~

Kenai hears Xander’s words. In a new-found urgency, he starts to run faster. Slip, being the fastest of both squads, is a couple of paces ahead of the group with  
Rothki and Jonesy right behind him.

“Kriff! We might be too late, sir!” Jonesy pants as he continues to sprint.

Face calm, the general calmly articulates. “Late or not, there is still a threat out there along with our men.”

_Three of them are still alive, I can sense them. But…I feel pain, such pain and rage._

~*Ω*~

The air seems to change for a second as Ghost watches the slain clone fall to the ground in a bloody mess. Xander didn’t need to be a Jedi to feel it. Silently, the surviving clone being held by the commandos looks at his squad-mate’s body. Helmet still covering his face, they all can only imagine the emotions being painted on the clone’s face. 

Xander continues running, trying to block out his anger and frustration. He swears under his breath.

_Leave it, Ghost. Damnit!_

Ghost shifts his cold, dark eyes to the droid he is locking arms with.

The tension in the air increases, all surrounding Ghost. In one rapid motion, the droid finds itself airborne, hurdling towards the ground. It lays on the ground for a second in confusion before Ghost begins to stomp on its metallic throat. The commando droid grabs Ghost’s foot and twists it. The trooper lets in a sharp gasp in pain. Losing his balance, the silent soldier falls. In the process of falling, the clone grabs the droid’s leg and starts to roll. Sparks fly as the leg’s joints are damaged by Ghost’s deathly grip. He gets the droid on its back and eyes his blaster lying next to him. Without hesitation, Ghost grabs his weapon and puts a knee on the commando. Aiming, he fires three shots into the commando’s back and head. It smokes from the blasts and lays motionless. Ghost stands up and begins to sprint again towards the remaining commando droids; appearing to be favoring one foot over the other.

_Shit._

The clone trooper growls. He jumps into the air and lifts his blaster, ramming it into one of the heads of the commando droids. Unable to brace for impact, the right eye of the droid is crushed by the butt of the weapon. The commando stumbles backwards before gaining its footing. It throws a punch at Ghost who swiftly avoids it. Another of the commandos joins the fight, wrapping its fingers around Ghost’s wrist. The mechanical humanoid swings its long vibroblade at the clone’s arm only to be met with a blast to the face from the trooper’s blaster. Before the commando hits the ground in a sparking mess, Ghost feels solid arms grab him from behind, rendering his arms useless. His blaster hits the ground. Ghost violently lurches forward managing to flip the commando holding him over his back, knocking his painted helmet off in the process.

A snarl is etched across the clone’s face. His hair is messy and wild from the sweat and dirt that collected under his helmet. Blood begins to stream from one of his nostrils. Ghost’s eyes like flames from the fiery flames of the brightest sun, adjusting their focus on the commando droid in front of him.

~*Ω*~

A few seconds ahead of the mixed squads, Slip quickly scans the horizon for any sign of the clones. He spots the familiar paint job of his sergeant’s armor.

“I see Xander!” Slip yells to the men behind him.

“Any visual on the others?” Commander Titan asks.

“No, sir! Not ye-”

Slip stops speaking mid-sentence. There is no need to say anything as the commandos and Ghost come into view. Ricochet sees the body of Kenai’s trooper lying motionless on the ground. The medic groans through his teeth.

_No. I won’t make it in time!_

He rumbles as his body continues to yearn for air.

~*Ω*~

Unable to get its arms back in a more comfortable position, the commando droid lets go of Ghost. Before it could completely turn around, the silent clone wraps his hand around its neck and choke-slams it to the ground. The wildness that now fills Ghost’s eyes is targeted on the droid holding the lone clone trooper. The Graveyard squad member reaches for his blaster again only to be kneed in the stomach by the droid he choke-slammed. Ghost’s face becomes distorted from the pain, but he takes his gun and aims for the droid below him.

Unknown to him, the one-armed droid is sneaking behind him with a vibroblade armed and ready.

“GHOST! BEHIND YOU!” Xander yells in desperation.

It is too late.

In one swift motion, one-armed commando swings the malevolent weapon diagonally up the clone’s back, cutting through his armor like butter. Ghost howled as the vibroblade cuts into his skin, leaving a long and deep slash starting from his lower right back ending at his right shoulder. He collapses on the ground, his back smoking and bleeding from the hot blade that had pieces of his flesh turning to black char from the heat.

~*Ω*~

“Ghost is down!” Jonesy says seeing his comrade fall to the ground.

A panic flooded the minds of the clones. They were too late. There was no hope for their brothers.

“Do we have visual on those damn droids?” Commander Titan asks with impatience and anger.

“Yes, but we don’t have a clear shot!” One of Kenai’s men replies.

Titan growls and continues to sprint with all the energy he had left. From the corner of his eye, he sees Binary stop dead in his tracks.

“What the Hell are you doing, soldier?” Titan inquires in disbelief.

Binary doesn’t answer.

“Get your ass moving! No one can hit that target from here! It’s impossible!”

“Not for me!” Binary removes his rifle from his back and holds it steady in his hands. 

Jonesy sees this along with General Rothki.

“Everybody out of the way!” Rothki orders.

The two squads obey the order and move to the side, creating a clear path for the young marksman.

Slip, being ahead of everyone, keeps running.

“Slip! Hit the deck!” Jonesy yells at his squad-mate.

The mohawked clone turns around and sees the rifle pointing at him.

“Oh shit!” He exclaims diving out of the way, somersaulting and landing in a crouching position.

The young marksman focuses his scope on remaining commandos. He sees three still alive. One getting up, another holding the clone from Kenai’s squad, and finally, the one missing an arm preparing to deliver a life-ending blow to Ghost who appears to still be alive and moving. Three shots. That was all he was guaranteed. Three clean shots to save his brothers. A reparation for the job he thought he finished with Slip. A mistake that would play out in his head as he fell asleep that night.

_Fix your mistake._

Binary takes a deep breath. His finger craving to fire the trigger.

_Only three shots._

He focuses on the one-armed droid. Binary’s target centered on its head. The droid raises its arm for the final blow.

_One._

**BVVVVVVVP!**

**CLANG.**

A smoking hole appeared in the one-armed commando’s head. The vibroblade in its hand drops to the foreign terrain. The two remaining droids start to turn their heads to their metal comrade who is starting its descent to the ground as the ‘life’ in its eyes fades.

_Two._

**BVVVVVVVVP!**

**CLINK!**

Trigger pulled, the droid holding the clone is shot right through the eye. Arms going limp, it unintentionally releases the captive clone who wiggles out of its humanoid clutches, dropping to the ground for cover. It sparks before joining the other deceased droid on the ground. 

Alone, the remaining commando doesn’t have time to react.

_Three._

**BVVVVVVVVP!**

**CLING!**

The smoking blow to its head causes it to stumble a bit before becoming another tally in Binary’s kill record. It falls onto the second targeted commando which had perished seconds before.

Lifting his head, Ghost’s body shakes from the blood loss as he sees the slain droids around him. He maneuvers his head to the freed clone who checks on his slaughtered brother. Seeing that both he and the clone are safe, Ghost rests his head back on the ground.

_Double check._

Moving his viewfinder, Binary sees Xander arrive at the scene. The sergeant immediately kneels next to his injured brother. Continuing to move it, he sees that everyone is safe from harm. Droids down. No more threat.

_Are you sure?_

Binary focuses back on the commando droids. The holes in their heads still produced sparks and smoke from his blaster rifle. Glowing orange from the melting metal could be seen fading as it cools. All clean shots right through their heads. As dead as dead comes.

_Yes._

“All clear!” Binary informs the group.

“Keep moving!” Rothki orders.

The large group begins to sprint again. Within fifteen seconds, they arrive at the scene. They start to crowd Xander, Ghost, and the other soldier. Kenai rushes to his squad member’s side.

“Ghost? Ghost?” Xander says gently touching the bleeding trooper.

The sound of labored breathing could be heard coming from Ghost as he tried to catch his breath.

“Damnit.” The sergeant mutters through his teeth.

From the corner of his eye, Xander sees Kenai resting a hand on the surviving clone’s shoulder.

“Are you alright, Quiz?” Kenai asks the rescued clone.

“Yeah…yeah I’m alright.” Quiz responds.

Both of them look at the cadaver of their former squad-mate.

“Oh, Bowen.” Kenai solemnly dips his head.

Sergeant Xander feels a fire burning in his throat.

“Out of my way! Out of my way!” 

Ricochet pushes through the small crowd, already removing his med pack to attend to the wounds. Lieutenant Grim sees this. The aloof clone turns to the other soldiers.

“Move your asses!” he barks. “Give the medic room to work!”

The group of clones disperse, moving back so Ricochet can work. Kenai looks at his men.

“Off to the side.” Kenai commands.

His squad silently groups together to the side, leaving Graveyard squad to watch Ricochet work. Concealed under their helmets, mixed emotions form on their faces as they watch from a distance.

“Ghost? Can you hear me?” the medic asks gingerly touching and examining the gash.

The clone nods silently. His head is covered in a mixture of sweat and blood from his nose.

“Good, good.”

 _Deep laceration to the back._ Ricochet thinks to himself. _Missed the spine by a fraction of an inch. Possible sprain in the ankle. Blood coming from nose; no sign of break or fracture. Shaking body from exhaustion and blood loss. Won’t last an hour without proper treatment._

“Shit, the guy is still alive?” one of Kenai’s men whispers to his squad-mate.

“My God.” Another from the crowd says.

_Kriff. Where are those damned transports!_

“I can’t work here. Armor needs to come off, but he will bleed out without the proper treatment.” Ricochet says observing the wound on Ghost’s back.

“Anything you can do temporarily?” Xander asks.

“Yes. I could apply some bacta bandages to slow the bleeding, but we need to move him now!” he replies starting to apply the bandages to the gaping wound.

A hum is heard overhead.

“Transports!” someone calls out.

The LAATs they all were waiting on minutes before could be seen flying over them. Gracefully they circled back around once spotting the remaining troops and locating a safe place to land. 

“Thank God.” Commander Titan mutters to himself.

Finishing applying the bandages, Ricochet notices the bacta helping the bleeding tremendously. Ricochet injected Ghost in the neck with a pain killer and then shifts his gaze at Jonesy and Slip.

“Help him up! We gotta move him now!” the medic orders.

“Doesn’t he need a stretcher?” Slip asks, grabbing one of Ghost’s arms.

“No time. It won’t matter in less than an hour.”

Slip nods and he and Jonesy hoist up the wounded trooper. Ghost grunts and winces at the pain. He sets his feet and manages to find the strength to stand, albeit hunching over.

“Welp.” Jonesy says with amusement, looking at the gash that cut through the back of Ghost’s torso. “That’s another one for the books.”

Ricochet shoots Jonesy a glance in disbelief.

 _He almost died and you find this funny? Asshole._ Ricochet thinks in disgust.

In the background, Ricochet hears General Rothki and Commander Titan ordering everyone onto the transports. Feet clomping away, Kenai and Quiz carrying Bowen’s empty shell of a body to the LAAT, and Ghost’s labored breathing as he took one step at a time. A melancholic melody that he was taught and designed to not be impacted by. Sure, it was easier for him to handle stressful situations like this, but that didn’t mean he was any less human.

Retrieving Ghost’s helmet, Binary looks at the wound and shudders.

“You idiot.”

Ghost gazes up at the source of the voice. His sergeant looks at him through his black visor with what everyone felt was daggers. But Ghost’s dark brown eyes, gave no indication of the fire that once burned in them. They only contained the coldness of a lack of emotion. 

Could Xander really blame Ghost? Could he really blame someone who tried to protect his brothers? Reckless? Yes. Idiotic? Not quite. The disappointment and fear still filled Xander. He couldn’t lose someone from his squad. He just couldn’t.

Ricochet walked past Xander, following his new squad-mates from behind as they hauled Ghost onto the LAAT.

 _Good job, kid._ Xander thought to himself.  
Following his squad, Xander began to reflect on the day’s events. The objective was carried out, the battalion did not perish as was originally anticipated, and Graveyard squad lived to fight another day.

Xander takes a deep breath as his and Kenai’s squad finally all board the transport. He sees Ghost being put onto a stretcher face down as Ricochet and another clone strap him down for transportation. The rest of the clone troopers in the cabin of the spacecraft hold onto the dangling, support grips in a battle ready position. It was almost like nothing ever happened. The grit and debris on their armor revealed the lie in that thought. None the less, Xander had managed to accomplish the once impossible task they were given. He brought another victory to the Republic and that was all that mattered. He couldn’t fool himself with that lie either.

“Let’s get the Hell out of here.” Xander sighs out of relief as the doors close behind him.

~*Ω*~

Inside of the belly of one of the airborne Low Altitude Assault Transport, Commander Titan raises one of his armored arms into the air, stretching his back. Tilting his neck, he cracks the joints in his back trying to relieve his body of the built-up tension. An elongated sigh comes from Lieutenant Grim, breaking the sound of the low hum of the aircraft as he removes his helmet. In a swift motion he slides his hand over the dark stubble on his face. The lieutenant moves his hand and begins to scratch the shorter hair on his head. Grim looks over at his theelin general who has his eyes closed in an almost meditative state.

“Another well-fought victory, sir.” Grim notes, the corners of his lips morphing into his own version of a smile.

“Indeed.” The jedi says without opening his eyes. “You both lead our men well.”

Another prolonged silence fills the cabin as the only three in it listen to the sound of nothing.

Titan and Grim shift their identical brown eyes to each other. Exchanging a subtle, nonverbal agreement, the two had that burning question they always wanted to ask their general; the one they both had conceived that day five months ago. But who is going to ask? Titan didn’t seek out to question his leader’s decisions, but out of the two he was the one that was more calm and collected. Grim, even though the lieutenant was blunter than his brother, felt this was one of the topics that was the equivalent of walking on eggshells.

Taking a deep breath, Commander Titan made the decision for both of them.

“Why did you let him do it, sir?” Commander Titan asks his general.

There was no need to explain whom the question was referring too. The day’s events left that question obvious to the receiver of it. 

General Rothki does not answer right away, but a small smile appears on his deep, purple lips.

“He had something to prove.”

“In all due respect sir, Xander’s request was so…unorthodox.” Grim starts. “Who hears of a clone making such a ludicrous proposition? I understand losing your entire squad is one thing, but building another one completely of the sole survivors of other squads? The man wasn’t in the right mind that day! I mean, he asked you an hour after all of his squad had died. An hour! He even lost Charlie that day; the man that made him into the corporal he was! And yet, you were so quick to accept his offer. It’s unheard of.”

The older, blue eyes of the Jedi made contact with the two brothers. The pair of identical humans could not tell if it was sadness or understanding in the theelin’s eyes. Taking a deep breath, the Jedi addresses his men.

“You two know more than anyone that I trust all the men in my battalion with my life. Xander is already a natural born leader with a fire that is always desired for a sergeant. That was one of the deciding factors that lead to the squad’s creation.”

Lieutenant Grim shakes his head a little in disbelief and slight confusion.

“Yeah, but what you have with Graveyard squad is a bunch of pieces to different puzzles that you are trying to piece together. It just doesn’t work. It would have been better if we just followed protocol and reassigned Xander a new squad of fresh shinies and assigned the survivors to different squads, not assemble this half-baked, special task force.”

Rothki raises an eyebrow, peering at Grim. Seeing how out of line he was, Grim straightens up his spine as he tries to keep his eyes from becoming wide out of embarrassment. The lieutenant swallows hard.

“I respect your opinion, Lieutenant, but I have my reasons for the decision I made.” Rothki’s voice remains characteristically calm with a hint of kindness.

“My apologies, sir. I-I’m just used to protocol that’s all.” Grim says with a bit of remorse in his voice.

Rothki smiles and rests a hand on his clone lieutenant’s shoulder.

“No need to apologize, lieutenant. You are free to express your opinions around me.” The theelin nods at the clone.

“They may not be the best fit with each other, but my stars do they have great  
results in battle.” Titan says, rubbing the scars on the side of his tan face.

The three nod in agreement. Rothki looks at his men again.

“I know it is still difficult for the both of you to understand why I did what I did,” he starts, making sure to look both of them in the eyes. “But know this; in the temple one of the first things the Jedi are taught is to trust our intuition and feelings. That day, the Force was different around Xander. Everything in my being said to trust in his request regardless of the logic behind it. We have seen Xander and his squad rise from the ashes of their past and gradually grow stronger together. Though you may not see it, the Force has plans for these men. What it is, I cannot say. However, there are two things I am sure of; the first being I trust in the Force and the second I trust Xander and the man he has grown to become.”


	13. Chapter 13

Slip dramatically collapses on his bunk face first while letting out a dramatic moan. He had managed to remove his armor before practically leaping into the top bunk. Around him in the sleeping quarters of the Jedi cruiser, the numerous clones of the 614th are preparing for the ride back to Coruscant. Mingling around and catching up with one another, discussions about recent smashball matches, stories from past battles, and plans for their arrival home could be heard all around the large quarters.

“How about we not leave our armor in the walkway, vod.” Jonesy suggests raising an eyebrow, kicking Slip’s helmet out of the way.

Slip smirks and chuckles.

“Sorry. The bunk called me.”

Jonesy shakes his head, but smiles. He begins to remove his armor as well starting with his chest plate which has deep maroon paint around its collar along with a stripe down the middle of it. The long-haired clone looks back at his brother who leaps down from the bunk. Slip runs a hand through his mohawk and moves his own armor closer to the bed, organizing it up to code.

“How long do you think we will be at the barracks this time?” Jonesy asks now removing his glove protectors which also have a maroon stripe painted on the ends closest to the pinky finger.

Slip retrieves his helmet that Jonesy kicked. “I’m guessing three days maybe.”

Jonesy removes his wrist gauntlets and shoulder pads, stretching his back in the process.

“Since Ghost is out again, do you think Xander won’t make us run drills like cadets?”  
Slip starts to climb up the ladder to his bunk.

Jonesy cracks a smile, taking off his utility belt. “Heh! Knowing Xan we probably still will, especially with the new guy.”

“It’s not like Ricochet hasn’t fought before.” Slip notes, flopping back down on his bunk. “Hell, even in the last battle I caught a glimpse of him in action. He doesn’t need any ‘adjustment training’.”

Jonesy lets out a sigh of contentment as he removes both of his boots. He rubs his left ankle before working on removing the remainder of his lower armor.

 _Adjustment training._ Jonesy thinks. _Another way of saying let’s find out your strengths and how well you actually fit with the group. Ol’ Xander being a paranoid veteran again._

The pair of clones raise their heads at the sound of familiar footsteps. Upon so, they see Binary approaching them rifle still strapped to his back. Helmet tucked under his arm, the marksman has a concerned look on his face.

“Binary! We were wondering where you were.” Slip says smiling kindly at his little brother.

“Yeah, the last time we saw you was in the hangar.” Jonesy adds.

Binary leans on the built-in ladder next to Jonesy. He lets out a quiet sigh.

“The general wanted to speak with me before I returned to the barracks.”

“What about?” Jonesy asks while stretching his back.

Binary’s face contorts as if he is frustrated at something. Slip immediately knew what it was about. The energetic clone’s face softens.

“It was about the commandos, wasn’t it?” Slip questions.

“Yeah.” Binary admits, the hurt visible in his eyes.

“Bi, you know that wasn’t your fault-“

“I know, I know!” Binary spits aggressively, cutting off Slip. “The general even said that! I guess he could tell what was on my mind.”

An expression of regret forms on Binary’s face. He wasn’t one to be so hot-  
tempered.

“I-I’m sorry.” He sputters ashamed. “I shouldn’t have…”

Slip looks at the young clone with pity. He knew his brother obsessed over perfection in his work. Even something out of his hands, like with the commando droids, still ate at him. Binary had been like that since the day they met. Never had the group talked about why the sniper was like that, nor was there a reason too. They all knew the answer to that question, but the details seemed like deadwood and too personal to pry. But the fact was, Slip saw what the need for proficiency did to Binary.

Slip hops of the bunk and stands in front of the troubled clone.

“Listen Bi, I was there with you when we blew up the tanks.” he rests a hand on Binary’s shoulder. “We both checked again and again to make sure there were no survivors. From what we both saw, we blew the clankers to smithereens. If it weren’t for you, the mission would never have been a success. Besides, you and I know how tricky those Seppies made the commandos. And you know what? I’m sure Ghost is extremely grateful for what you have done for him. You did save his life.”

Binary’s dark, brown eyes become calm as Slip helps ease his brother’s mind.

“I…I just feel like I could have prevented the whole situation if I was faster.” Binary admits to Slip.

“You already are the best, Bi.” Slip reassures.

A small smile appears on Binary’s face.

“Yeah, you nailed those commandos in between the eyes. Damn you have a helluva shot!” Jonesy smiles.

Feeling more comfortable, Binary removes his sniper rifle from his back and begins to get ready for bed.

“I owe you a drink. Why don’t you and I hit up 79s during our time back? I can tell you a handful of ladies who would love to meet a sniper.” Slip offers, returning to his normal self.

Binary’s face becomes warm.

“Well…I-uh-“He stammers.

Jonesy rolls his eyes.

“Ah give the kid a rest! He’s already had an exciting day.”

Slip smirks and raises his shoulders. “Alright, Bi. You heard the man.”

Binary nods and begins to remove his armor. Having just finished removing his own armor, Jonesy reaches for the hair tie holding up the half-bun at the top of his head. He pulls it and lets the top layer of thick, black, wavy hair fall down. He shakes his head and runs his hands through it to ease the former tension and tugging from the hair tie. Jonesy watches Slip and Binary climb up the ladder to their bunks.

 _Six. There are six of us now._ Jonesy thinks to himself as his face begins to fall. _Finally got your medic, Xan ol’boy. Let’s see how much longer until this whole kriffing thing ends._

“G’night, boys.” Slip says from the bunk above Jonesy.

“G’night, vod.” Jonesy responds before closing his eyes.

 

~*Ω*~

 

A faint blue glow fills the medical bay where bacta tanks were filled to the top in the healing liquid. Rows of the tall cylinders acted as the single light-source for the room. A pair of medical officers checked on a few of the tanks that contained severally, injured troopers, logging in information while the numerous med droids in the secluded room checked the vitals of the clones contained in the tanks. It was always so quiet, save for the occasional chatter from the officers and the robotic noises from the droids.

At one of the ends of the long room, Ricochet was checking on the tanks as well, focusing on one unconscious clone in particular. Ghost floats in the bacta having being medically put into unconsciousness so he could rest during the long process of healing. A breathing apparatus was attached to his mouth while a single, white, under garment provided some decency in covering his lower torso. Looking at him, it was clear he had the same body type as his brothers; strong, muscular, and designed for battle. Ricochet notes that Ghost’s legs are almost tucked towards his stomach while his arms are resting in front of his torso. Fetal position. Like a child in its mother’s womb; a sensation the clones never got to experience having been grown in tubes much like the one Ghost was recovering in. Datapad in hand, the medic enters the data he is gathering into the gadget and continuously inspects the healing progress of the near fatal wound on the trooper’s back.

Ricochet cannot help the uneasiness that is taking over the back of his mind. 

He tries his best to shake it off as he returns his attention to his patient. That didn’t seem to help as Ricochet gazes at the war-torn landscape of scars that was Ghost’s skin. Blaster burns, jagged lacerations on his chest and abdomen, and uneven, raised marks from where debris marked the silent clone. To Ricochet’s calculations, it was a miracle that Ghost was still alive.

_So that’s what Jonesy meant by another one for the books. Damn._

Looking at his datapad, Ricochet goes over the report he filled out for Ghost.

_"Sprained ankle from droid attack, laceration to back, burns to same laceration from the vibroblade’s heat, extensive blood-loss, a few bruises on various parts of body, a bloodied, unbroken nose, and muscle exhaustion from over exertion. Estimated time in the bacta tank: two days."_

Ricochet takes a deep breath before letting the air escape between his lips. This was his job. Until the day he died or at least until the war ended, he was a medic. He knew his purpose in life. Regardless of his title as a medic, he was a soldier first. With that in mind, he was designed to fight or die for the Republic as a soldier. That was it. But as a medic, he was dispatched to heal his brothers in battle to keep them fighting wherever the war took them. In other words, keep the clones alive so we don’t have to buy more. The harsh reality. But Ricochet never thought like that. He wanted to save his brothers lives and keep them safe and healthy any way that was humanly possible.

Even then, he couldn’t save his squad…

Kamino.

Red flashing lights. The screams. Sounds of crushing metal and broken glass. The light leaving the eyes of-

_**'Ricochet!'** _

_..._

_**'Get them out of here before-'** _

_..._

_**'Ricochet!'** _

“Ricochet?”

The voice is calm. It has a tone that Ricochet recognized back on the streets of Coruscant. And the same kindness that was heard in General Ti’s voice. Removing his eyes from his datapad, Ricochet turns his body to the owner of the voice who is standing behind him. He stands at attention when he sees that it is Sergeant Xander.

“You can relax.” Xander gently smiles.

The sergeant approaches the medic and tank. In his hands were his helmet which had a maroon triangle on the space above the T-shaped visor. Upon reaching the tank, Xander looks at Ghost who, albeit asleep, was squinting his eyes and deepening his eyebrows. Ricochet presumes his injured brother is having a dream.

“You do know we have droids and medical officers on hand to watch over him?”

Ricochet looks into Xander’s eyes before resuming typing in information. For a second, a flash of compassion appears on Ricochet’s face. It quickly departs from the medic’s expression as the serious and controlled façade returns.

“Yeah, but I want to make sure all my men are receiving the proper care.”

The sergeant smiles and nods his head in understanding. He walks over to Ricochet’s side and looks at Ghost. There is a slight hint of discouragement in Xander’s face, but he remains patient and steady. In a way, Xander was starting to get used to this sort of situation with Ghost, but at the same time it still terrified him. The fear of losing one of his men still weighed heavily on his shoulders.

“This isn’t his first time.” Xander starts, not removing his eyes from Ghost.

Ricochet turns his head to the side an inch and looks at his sergeant’s profile. Xander sees this and makes eye contact with his new squad-mate. Confusion is plainly etched on Ricochet’s face.

“Ghost, as you will quickly come to find out, can be pretty reckless sometimes. On a good day, he might end up with a couple bandages at best. On a bad day, he will spend a week in one of these tanks.”

Xander shifts his eyes to the tank on the right of Ghost. Inside is another trooper, floating around the almost magical solution; he too sleeping. He was young with barely a scratch on him, save for the grotesque eye injuries the shiny had. Xander’s face fell a little at the sight of the clone. The sergeant had a feeling that a good portion of the brothers in this room had been saved by Ricochet. Yes, the casualties of the day’s battle had taken a toll on the whole battalion, but the medic helped so many that most medics couldn’t. Everyone was right about him, he had a gift.

“But today was not bad day.” Xander rests his right hand on Ricochet’s shoulder. 

“You fought well today, Ricochet.”

The Graveyard squad sergeant examines Ricochet’s face. His dark, brown eyes seem focused, but upon closer inspection Xander could see the turmoil and fear he was hiding. The persona Ricochet was giving the entire squad, it wasn’t truly him. It was but a mask to hide the emotions from the past few days. Xander knew that mask all too well.

“Thank you, sir. Just doing my job.”

“And a damned good one at that!” Xander’s face falls into an expression of empathy. “Hart would have been proud of you today.”

Ricochet’s finger froze mid-air at the mention of his deceased sergeant’s name. His jaw clenches and he feels his heart drop. He tries not to allow his mind to bring up the images from a few days ago, but the images of his former sergeant’s life leaving his body was engraved deeply.

“I know the last few days have been challenging, especially with adjusting to…well, everything! You have not let the changes affect your abilities. That’s something one of the best soldiers can do.”

 _One of the best soldiers._ The words resonate in Ricochet’s head.

The scarred medic sees his sergeant’s face fall into a serious and distant gaze.

“Believe me, Ricochet, this squad has all seen its share of bad days.” The sergeant’s eyes meet Ricochet’s. “Graveyard has….we all have lost our past squads. Your situation echoes each members, although most of the circumstances are different. Having to move on so quickly without having a moment to recover is difficult, even for us clones. As a group, we never speak to each other about what happened to our squads. Unspoken, but a mutual understanding. I want you to know that even though it doesn’t seem like it now, you will eventually find your place and thrive with this group. Above that, we are grateful that you are now with us.”

It still hurt. Xander knew that and so did Ricochet. All the soldier could do is nod his head in acknowledgment of his new sergeant. Xander smiles at Ricochet, removing his hand from the medic’s shoulder. He turns around and starts to head for the door. The sergeant stops before looking back over his armored shoulder.

“We all are glad you are here with us, Ricochet. You will do Graveyard squad proud. I’m sure of it.” Xander walks away and exits the facility.

Ricochet swallows hard and closes his eyes. His brow furrows from a combination of exhaustion and concealing his inner demons. 

Who was he now? 

The answer even he wasn’t sure of. But he knew he would never be the same again.  
The person that stepped onto the shuttle with Xander on Kamino was not the same person he left behind. That person might have died with the rest of his former squad; buried under all the debris and rubble in those pure white halls of his birth planet. Even he could not heal himself from that day.

_I can’t let that happen again…..I have to be better._

Ricochet opens his eyes and gazes up at Ghost. The injured clone trooper floats silently in the bacta. Ricochet looks at the scars that elaborately decorated Ghost’s body. Even with the bacta, the horrific wound his squad-mate received would become another scar to the collection that mapped his body. Maybe in time they would fade, but until then the scars and memories with them would remain.

**END OF PART 1**


	14. I N T E R L U D E

Waves crashed against the grey pillars of multiple saucer, shaped buildings. Pure, white lights could be seen from the exterior of the buildings, showing civilization on an otherwise aquatic and storm-ridden world. The buildings that made up the capital city held secrets to a galaxy that went about like the whole planet wasn’t even there. It was completely intentional for the secrecy, but in time and careful planning, the truth eventually comes out.

In one of the numerous rooms of the city, a boy with thick, black, wavy hair, and big brown eyes hid in a low crawlspace. He watched as numerous pairs of small feet passed by in different speeds. Some were running while others took a few steps before hesitating. He tried to keep himself from giggling each time a pair of feet passed by. The room itself was an almost radiating white with even brighter strips of white light. Some furniture filled the room. A chest, a couch, a few tables with chairs, and a shelf that had a few objects on them. All were appropriately colored white or grey. Not much to hide behind, but that wasn’t an issue for the well-trained younglings.

“Found you, Dipper!”

Laughing could be heard as a young boy named Dipper removed himself from the inside of the plain chest. He wore the same outfit as everyone else in the room, light blue and red, long-sleeved fatigues. Dipper’s hair was identical to the hiding boy’s hair. In fact, Dipper looked exactly like every other boy in the room. Same hair, same eyes, same height, same voice; same everything. 

“What took you so long? It felt like two rotations!” Dipper playfully pushes the seeker of the game.

Giggling at the push, the seeker pushes back. The two begin to giggle as they both fall to the ground and begin to roughhouse.

“Shhhhhh! We have to be quiet! Juma Ko will be here any minute!” one boy said, watching the two play-fight.

“But we haven’t found 1809 yet!” another adds.

1809 smiles from his position underneath the crawlspace.

Although still young, the youngling demonstrated great strategy skills. The group of boys were all taught how to strategize and carry out basic objectives through rigorous training. Training which could have been seen as a too intense for the group of younglings, but unlike other children they could handle it.

“Ow!” the seeker suddenly calls out in pain.

Shifting his eyes to his brother, 1809 saw him rubbing the back of his head as Dipper began to back off of him.

“I’m sorry, 1799! It was an accident!”

“Oh no.” 1809 whispers to himself.

He never liked to see his brothers get hurt, it made his chest feel like it was aching. The tiny boy knew that if he moved out of his hiding spot, he would lose the game. But the game no longer mattered to him.

Remembering what the group learned the other day while training, 1809 began to do a low Military Crawl out of the crawlspace. Getting up on his feet, he ran over to 1799. He stopped running when he reached his brother. Kneeling, 1809 touches his brother’s shoulder.

“Are you alright, 1799?” 1809 asks his brother.

1799 wipes away a tear. “Yeah.”

1809 helps 1799 up as everyone gathers around.

“Does that mean I won?” 1799 asks his brother, seeing that he had come out of his hiding spot.

Smiling, 1809 nods his head. The two share a chuckle before the door to the room slides open.

A tall, humanoid being with white skin and enormous black eyes entered the room. It gracefully approached the boys like it was floating. A characteristic stride for the sentient and highly intelligent species called Kaminoans. It wore a head crescent that circled its completely bald head. The group of six year-old looking boys stop what they were doing and waited for instructions.

“Good morning, Batch 02-14.” The being says.

Its voice was feminine and calm. The voice matched the face which showed little to no emotion.

“G’morning, Juma Ko.” The group addressed the Kaminoan in unison.

“Today,” Juma Ko’s head gently sways on her elongated neck. “We will be showing you the armory where you will be able to practice perfecting your accuracy with real artillery. As soldiers of the Republic, you will be part of one of the greatest military forces the galaxy has ever seen. In combat, you will use some of the weapons you will see today. ” The group of boys try to hide their excitement as their identical, brown eyes grow wide.

“You will meet with your trainer while there.” Her voice remains flat with no emotion in delivery. “As a reminder, you are not to touch any of the weapons available while on the tour. Failure to do so will result in consequences. Am I clear?”

“Yes, ma’am!” the clones acknowledged.

“Good,” Juma said turning around. “Follow me.”

 _I’m going to be a soldier for the Republic!_ 1809 thought to himself as they left the room.

Arranging themselves into two straight lines, as they were taught, the group of three year old clones make their way to the armory. Walking down one of the numerous corridors, they passed a few other groups of clones who are around the same age as Batch 02-14.

While walking to the armory, 1809 can’t stop thinking about how he was going to explore other planets in the galaxy and fight alongside his brothers. He had been told since the day of his birth that he was a product of perfection and greatness. That greatness was designed for the Galactic Republic. The small clone was taught that, if need be, he was to lay his life down for the pursuit of peace in the galaxy. It was what he was made to do. To him, it was the path of a hero. 

A window appears to 1809’s left side. He glanced over and sees a large room containing the structure that held the growth-acceleration tanks which had a faint, blue glow to them. The structure itself was layered with circles of growth tanks stacked to the ceiling. Inside these tanks, he could see clones at various states of fetal growth. Most of the ones he saw were larger and moving inside, leading him to believe that these brothers were almost ready to be born. Clone 1809 wouldn’t exactly describe the process of exiting the growth-acceleration tank as being ‘born’. It was more like the day he was extracted from his tank. None the clones were conceived naturally or were delivered through a natural process. Even though he himself wasn’t sure how normal babies were born or made, the process of seeing his brothers being grown and created was his normal.

“Do you think we will shoot today?” the clone numbered 1805 whispered to 1809.

“I don’t think so.” 1809 responded. “They don’t want us to use blasters until we are a little older.” 

“Yeah, but the simulations are getting boring.” Another clone added.

Juma Ko slightly moved her head towards the sound of the whispers. Seeing this, the three boys stood up straight like they were taught and stopped their conversation. The Kaminoan moves her head back towards the hallway in front of her.

After a while of walking, the group arrives outside of the armory doors. In front of the soft, grey doors, a man in grey Mandalorian armor stands outside waiting. Under one of his arms is his helmet, which has been painted grey with pale yellow designs, leaving his face exposed. His hair is dark brown which matches the small hairs on the stubble on his face. The Mandalorian turns his head to the approaching group. He stands up straight, but his face reveals a hint of gaiety.

“Hello, Orar. How are you doing today?” Juma Ko asks the bounty hunter.

“I’m doing well, thank you.” He responds.

Juma Ko turns her attention to Batch 02-14.

“Orar will be your guide on the tour.” She begins, swaying her head slowly again. 

“Listen to everything he says for it is dire you are aware with the location of the weapons in case of an emergency situation. Are we clear?”

“Yes, ma’am!” the batch replies.

“Good.” She says before walking away.

Orar steps forward and looks at the group of young clones, all looking at him with the same brown eyes.

“Gentlemen, today we will be exploring the armory. Inside is ammunition and weapons of various design. You are not to touch any of the weapons unless you wish to receive punishment. Listen carefully and attentively, this information will be used during future drills and real situations. Are you boys ready?”

“Yes, sir!” the batch responded, some more enthusiastic than others.

The instructor couldn’t help but smile at the future soldiers.

“Ori’jate. Very good.” Orar says in Mando’a.

Being one of the few Mandalorians brought in to train the clone cadets, Orar made sure to keep his traditions strong. Although instructed not to teach the clones the language of his people, as Galactic Basic was most prevalent language of Coruscant and the galaxy, Orar of Clan Eldar kept his Mando’a to a minimum. But secretly, he was proud some of his culture was rubbing off on the younglings.

“Follow me.”

The doors separating the batch from armory parted in a low ‘woosh’. A few gasps escaped the identical boys’ lips. As Orar lead them in, they all saw the various rows of weapons and gear. The sleek, black appearance of the weapons contrasted the light, grey walls of the room.

“Gather around.” Orar instructs.

The clones rush around the instructor and wait for him to speak.

“This is the primary armory we have here on Kamino. Can anyone tell me how many weapons we have in here currently?”

1799 raised his hand.

“Go ahead, CT – 1799.”

“Approximately 500,000, not including vehicles.”

“Correct.” Orar says. “Now, the armory hosts both new and old technology from the Galactic Republic. You will eventually learn how to dissemble, reassemble, and fire each of these weapons. You will be trained with each in various simulations.”

1809 listened intently on everything his instructor was saying. He made mental notes on everything; the weapons being discussed, the magazine charges, even the safety and mundane dates Orar gave them. All the information fuels 1809’s ambition to be the best soldier he could be.

“…they don’t call it the Widow Maker for nothing! Any questions so far?” Orar says setting down a small blaster back in its designated spot.

The Mandalorian sees a hand.

“Elek. Yes, Augie?”

Augie scratched the top of his thick, wavy, black hair.

“What happens if you shoot inside the armory?”

“Ah! Good question.” Orar says smiling, his dimples indent his olive skin. “Because the facility is currently not in use for combat, a safety lock has been put in place that makes a discharge from a weapon rebound off the walls and storage units for the weapons. The blast will decrease in power through a special control in the lock. This is to ensure that the weapons are safe and the threat is stabilized.”

A few ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ came from the younglings. Orar picks up a heavy looking weapon with a rotating barrel. 

“Moving on. This right here-“

The door to the armory opens. A male Kaminoan with a fin-like crest on top of its head enters the room. Its white pupils focused on Orar.

“Pardon my intrusion on your lesson, Orar. I need to have a word with you outside.” He speaks with little to no emotion on his face.

Orar sighs and looks at the children before setting down the sizable blaster.

“We will continue when I get back.” He says before following the Kaminoan outside.

The doors close behind the two.

“Which blasters do you think we will use when we are ready for battle?” 1805 asks.

“I don’t know about you.” A boy numbered 1800 says, revealing a smaller blaster he took when no one was looking. “But I think this one is perfect for me!”

A few of the clones gasp at their brother’s actions.

“We aren’t allowed to touch the weapons yet!” Dipper exclaims.

“It’s not like Instructor Orar is going to find out!” 1800 argues, pretending to aim the weapon.

“But that’s against orders!” Dipper says grabbing the weapon, but 1800 refuses to let go.

They would all get in trouble if they were caught disobeying orders. 1809 didn’t want his brothers to get in trouble. He had to do something.

“Stop!” he cries out lunging himself at the weapon.

He manages to knock it out of both Dipper and 1800’s hands. The weapon hits the ground.

**PEW.**

The small blaster lets out a bright, blue, ball blast from its barrel.

“Get down!” 1805 ordered his brothers.

It hits a wall, then a storage unit holding detonators to non-existent bombs, and then the ground. Batch 02 – 14 watch in a mixture of terror and alertness as they all try to duck and cover from the blast. Their dark, brown, terrified eyes follow the blast as best as they could.

Hiding behind a shelf, 1809 watches it bounce off the storage bin in front of him, then the wall in front of him, and then-

 

~*Ω*~

“1809? CT – 1809? Can you hear me?” 

Everything was bright and blurry as 1809 started to open his eyes. 

“I didn’t mean for it to go off!” a voice belonging to 1800 protested.

The boy scrunched his brown as he tried to regain focus, only for his head to send shooting pain from where the blast grazed him. He winced and groaned in pain. The brightness of the room worsened the pain the child was feeling.

“It’s okay, I’m here.” Someone picks him up.

Focusing his eyes, 1809 manages to make out familiar, grey armor. A concerned look is on Orar’s face, but a comforting smile reassures the injured clone.

_Instructor Orar._

“You still disobeyed orders.” Juma Ko says as she gathers the rest of the batch. 

“You will be punished for disobeying the rules and endangering the other clones.”

1800 hangs his head in shame and frustration.

Orar carries 1809 to a floating, white stretcher that is being guided by one of the medical staff. The uniform the Kaminoan wore had red and white features on it which was the markings of the medical facility. The Mandalorian laid the clone down. He gently ruffled the boy’s hair, avoiding the burn that started on his forehead and ended past his hairline.

“You’ll be back on your feet in no time, 1809.” Orar smiled.

1809 nodded through tears.

“Now,” Orar starts, turning around to face the rest of Batch 02 – 14. “Tell me again what happened?”

Dipper immediately stepped forward. 

“1800 had the blaster and I tried to take it from him, but he wouldn’t let go.”

“Yeah!” A few others in the batch agree.

Orar nods and crosses his arms. “Go on.”

“So,” Dipper continues. “1809 saw this and he told them to stop and he….he knocked the gun out of our hands.”

Orar looks at the gun which is still on the ground for investigation of the incident.

“The blaster hit the ground which made it go off and, and, and the bolt just…bounced around the room! Then it hit him right here.” Dipper points to the spot 1809 got hit on his own head.

“So what you are saying is that it ricocheted and then it hit him in the head?” Orar asks, looking at the group of clones.

“What does ricochet mean?” Augie asks.

“It means something that deflects multiple times off various objects.” Orar  
responds.

The clones just stared at him in confusion. Orar sighed and closed his eyes. Kids.

“Yes, it means bounced around.” Reiterates patiently.

“Ricochet!” The group exclaimed.

The chorus of Batch 02 – 14’s voices continued to cry out with excitement.

“Yeah! Ricochet!”

“Ricochet!”

“That’s what we should call him!”

“Yeah!”

“Ricochet!”

~*Ω*~

Four rows of beds aligned the medical center in Tipoca City, the capital of the aquatic planet south of the Rishi Maze. A vast majority were not occupied as war was non-existent for the planet and illness was well-controlled. Only two people who rested in the beds, 1809 and another clone who was a few beds down on the opposite side of him. The boy was sleeping, but his leg was bandaged and hoisted up. He appeared to be one of the clones made about a year and a half ago.

CT – 1809 touched the bandage that covered his head. It stung where the burn mark was. He began to sniffle as tears welled up in his eyes.

 _Will I be able to fight?_ 1809 thought to himself. _I have to fight! I was made to be a soldier!_

A bellowing voice from the hall interrupted 1809’s worrisome thoughts.

“What the Hell do you mean there was an accident?” 

1809 recognized the voice.

“Yes, sir.” A calm Kaminoan answered. “One of the clones in his batch caused a situation which resulted in CT – 1809 receiving his injuries.”

“Blaster injury? Why was the weapon loaded to begin with?” the man he could not see seem annoyed. “Anyone of them could have shot their eye out!”

“My apologizes, sir.” 1809 sees the Kaminoan’s head enter the doorway as it slowly bows in apology to the man he could not see. “We wanted the armory to be battle ready. Preparation and safety are held to the highest standard here.”

“I see.” The man says, his sarcasm dry. “Keep in mind, these clones are still young. You can’t have safety measures installed that are suited for only adults. Youngling proof the place.”

The Kaminoan bows again in respect. “The situation is going to be discussed with the next council meeting. Your word is always valuable to us, sir.”

“Good.”

That particular accent, the one that 1809 and the rest of his brothers-

The sound of boots hitting the ground met the injured clone’s ears. He kept his eyes on the doorway as a figure entered. Eyes widening, 1809 froze as he looked at the man standing in the doorway. The man wore armor similar to Orar’s except the plated armor was silver and the bodysuit underneath was blue. Two WESTAR – 34 pistols hanged from his hips in brown holsters. The man’s tan face was scarred with two distinguishing marks. One above the right eyebrow and the other below the left eye. 

Jango Fett.

The genetic template for all clone troopers.

That was why 1809 recognized the voice, it was the same voice that all of the clones heard while doing their lessons and tests datapads. He had never met the man before, but the clone knew that it was because of the bounty hunter that he was created.

Jango looked at 1809 who still had tears in his eyes. The two looked each other with the same dark, brown eyes. It was as if the bounty hunter was studying him, but at the same time 1809 could see some sympathy in his eyes. Fett looked at the other injured clone and then back to 1809. His dark eyebrows scrunched up, creating folds on his forehead. Jango gently nodded at 1809 before walking away, the door closing behind him.

The young clone could barely fathom what just happened. It was rare to get a glimpse of Jango Fett as he mainly kept to his living quarters. Even then, the younglings were taught to never bother or engage with Jango. They all assumed because he was too busy or that he was too independent and willful to interact with them.

Wiping his eyes, 1809 looks back over at his younger brother in the other bed. One of the medical droids had left, only leaving one to monitor him. 1809 was glad that the droid stayed with his brother. You never knew when something could go wrong. 

“1809? Are you alright?”

1809 lifts his head and sees Orar standing next to his bed. The young clone nods his head.

“Good, good.” Orar says setting a hand on the boy’s shoulder.

The injured youngling furrows his dark eyebrows. He thought back to Jango’s face, his height, and how powerful he looked. 

“Am I gonna look like him one day?”

“N’usulu? Excuse me?” confusion takes Orar’s eyes.

“Am I going to look like Jango Fett when I get bigger?” 1809 restates.

The Mandalorian raises his brows in surprise.

“Uh...yes, yes you are. Well, you won’t have his scars, but you will look almost identical to him.” He answers.

“I’m going to be strong like him. Juma Ko says all of my brothers will be big and strong like him.” 1809 says looking at Orar with his big brown eyes.

The man can’t help but smile at the child.

“Yes you will be. I guarantee it.”

1809 wipes his nose.

“Now, you need to rest so you can heal.”

“Yes, sir.” The child nods.

Orar starts to walk away from 1809, but stops before he reaches the door.

“I almost forgot,” he starts, turning himself around. “Your batch have committed  
themselves to calling you Ricochet. In fact, they wouldn’t stop saying it when you left. I just wanted to let you know.”

“Ricochet?” 1809 asks.

“Yes, Ricochet.” Orar replies.

The youngling nods. The instructor smiles again before leaving the room.

 _Ricochet._ The clone thinks touching his bandages.

Ricochet lays his head on his pillow and starts to close his eyes. _My name is Ricochet._


End file.
